


Greedy Eyes

by KJ_Richardson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Foreplay, Horny Dean, Horny Sam, M/M, Masturbation, Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:50:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3698027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJ_Richardson/pseuds/KJ_Richardson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't know yet where this is headed...</p><p>Dean has taken a wife/Sam crashes with them/Leaving hunting is not satisfying/How do you break in a new hunter?</p><p>I'm sure there will be smut...but haven't gotten there just yet.  If you like it please let me know!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Greedy Eyes:

She wished for the millionth time she hadn’t noticed.  Prayed for the ability to look at him and see him as her brother in law again.  Closed her eyes and tried desperately to think of something else as she was drifting off so she wouldn’t have the dreams of animalistic sex with him night after night.

If he would move out, things would get better.  If he would get a girlfriend or a boyfriend or someone she could KNOW he was fucking on a regular basis maybe she could stop the flood of hot adrenaline to her crotch every time he brushed against her.  But for now he was there, in her house, in her head...and God she wished he was inside her body.

Anyone would think one brother was enough.  Lord, one of EITHER brother was more than enough.  The lines of hard life, physical work, dreams made and crushed etched into every pore of their bodies.  Scents from the oil of their very skin of evil and wonderful wafts of heaven all mixed together in their sweat and tears and hair...so strong she prayed she would get used to it.  Just stop noticing it was there.  But it was just impossible.  Even when she could get away from their smell...so male and worldly that it all but promised her aching cells pleasure and pain and all things so longed for there were their eyes.

Two distinctive sets...each shaped uniquely and colored by some angel or demon making them the kind of pools a woman would lose herself in as soon as they attached heatedly to any portion of her body.  They never stopped moving around, looking for something...she could never put her finger on what it was.  Roaming the earth, the sky, the future, the past, and most enjoyably her body.  Neither man could keep their eyes off her.

She wanted to say she was amazing to look at...some drop dead gorgeous diva who earned those looks just by awakening in the morning.  She was normal...so American she and their car looked like they belonged in a beer commercial.  Dirty blonde hair, just below her shoulders, wide gray eyes that were just as inquisitive and delving as theirs.  Her body was average in size and shape and although there were things she wished she could change or improve it was hard to want to do either when she was looked at that way.

She wished there was some story that would make history books about their classic meeting and romance but it hadn’t happened that way at all.  The one brother, HER brother was in rehab when she was.  In recovery.  Not glamorous...and nothing that would stick for him in whatever world he lived in.  But she had stayed sober.  Afraid of losing her grip on reality if anything happened to him.  Their marriage a joke for all intents and purposes...she highly doubted the last name now on her drivers license was his actual name.  There was no proof of any of this...but it was a gut instinct she went with.  Keeping silent about it like so many secrets the three of them harbored.

Currently, the brother she considered hers but not HERS was leaning against the counter sipping on a hot mug of coffee and reading the paper.  She knew he was doing more than that but he would never comment on what he was looking for other than to say he searched forever for, “a job”.   His ankles crossed, feet bare, legs for miles encased in worn denim.  She could tell it was his favorite pair.  She washed them weekly and they went right back onto his body.  His scent never leaving them even when they were toasty warm and fresh from the dryer.  Not that she would admit to having smelled his clothes.

His shirt a well worn black tshirt...who knew for sure which one...he had about ten of them.  Later it would be joined by a blue and grey flannel which was currently draped over the kitchen table chair.  The black tshirt hugging every curve of his considerable upper half.  Arms corded thickly with muscles he hid under deeply tanned skin, warm and fluid. She wondered if the flannel felt lonely hanging there away from him when he was so close.  She considered the bottom edge of his tshirt, knowing it would reveal a line of skin when he finally raised that mug to his mouth.

Her eyes shifted to his face, his angular jaw forever gritty with stubble...lips pursed as he gently blew on the top of the mug to cool the drink.  She inhaled softly smelling the coffee and his shampoo.  She sighed thinking of the dimples framing that mouth.  They were hidden right now and who would even imagine they existed if they had never had the pleasure of falling into them?

“So I was thinking... “ he started out of nowhere, eyes now focused on her.  She hadn’t made it that far up his face yet, but his serious pools of blue/green gazed steadily at her own.  He blinked at her, raising his eyebrow when she did not respond.  He gently shook his head, moving his wet, shoulder length hair around in such a habitual way she wondered if he even realized he did that any more.  One hand running distractedly through it as he set the paper down.  

He took a sip finally, and as expected there was the slice of freshly soaped skin peeking out at her from the waistband of his shirt.  “You were thinking?” she sighed.  It came out much more wistfully than she had imagined it would.

“Yeah, the weather’s supposed to be amazing this weekend.  We should go somewhere for a drive...small road trip or something.  There’s this place up North a bit...belongs in the family.  We could probably chill there for the weekend.”  He quirked his eyebrow at her again and when met with her silence, returned to the paper. Focused on his coffee and whatever he was reading about so intently.  He had dismissed her she knew...decision made.  Asking her about it was a mere informality.  If she didn’t want to go they would go alone.

“Who’s going where?” HER brother asked as he breezed into the kitchen in nothing more than a towel….stripes of water racing down his back and into said towel...droplets of water dripping onto the floor from his hair as he shook his head.  Her gaze and thoughts distracted by his nonchalant entrance and now firmly latched onto what was actually HERS.  “Hmmm?” He poured a gigantic mug of coffee and sipped immediately, sucking in a little as the fluid burned its way into him.  “Damn! That’s hot!”

He kicked at his brother, “Where are we headed Sammy?  A job?”  Sam shot him a look and then shot one at her.  “NO. NOT a job.”  But she knew whatever a job was that was definitely the reason for this trip.  The look he gave Dean revealing the lie to her as clearly as it did to Dean.  Dean pursed his lips and raised both eyebrows in mocking confusion, “K then.  So where to?”  He moved to her side, bending to give her a soft, lippy morning kiss.  His full lips sucking her gently into his world for an instant.  His smell was also fresh and clean, and full of the Earth and all good things growing there.  His hand lingering on the back of her head and holding it as he stood and turned to Sam.

“Up North...near Bobby’s place.  Thought we could...fish.”  The lie sounded preposterous to both of them.  “Fish.  K. Fishing’s ...good.”  He released her head and squeezed her shoulder briefly before releasing his hold.  Dean made a noise like a harumph and padded back out of the kitchen.  “Let’s get packing then...get those...rods n stuff.”  He hollered as he mounted the stairs.  “Got nothing else going.”  She sat there, slowly turning her own coffee cup in lazy circles, mentally correcting herself.  The decision had been half made without her.  Fully made once Dean had made it so.  It didn’t irritate her.  It was the world she had signed up for.

****

“There’s gonna be things… things that happen or maybe already happened that are gonna make you doubt me.  Make you hate me maybe.  Or Sam.  But we are a package deal, and you’ll be family.  You’ll be safe and if I am lying to you..it’s to protect you.  Can you be okay with all of that?”  Dean’s face all dark and serious and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Did you kill someone?” she asked softly.

“Only if they deserved it.”  he answered honestly.

“Sam too?”  he nodded affirming her guess.

She swallowed hard.  It had only been two weeks.  Two wild, crazy fast, confusing and frustrating and damned scary weeks.  He was asking her to marry him.  To be tied to him and his brother and this madness for the rest of her life.  It was a lot to take.

“You’re drinking again...already.” she stated it as fact, not judgement.

“I never stopped.  I was there for you. You’re done with that right?”  she waited for more of an explanation but nothing further was coming.  She nodded slowly.

“For me. Are you and Sam...together?”  God she hated to ask that question but if she was never going to get another chance for love it was something she needed to know right now.  It took a long time for him to answer her...his hesitation was loud as he stared at his feet, wringing his scarred up hands and tapping one foot in frustration.

“...not like you think.” he said finally.  Just as her heart had begun a rapid descent into her stomach...fearing the worst.  “He’s my brother.  We’ve always been together.  Sometimes we have been ALL we have…”  he glanced up without raising his head to see how these words were sinking in.  Her gaze was steady and unjudgemental on his face...he could see she was chewing on the inside of one cheek in thought...she didn’t know she had that tell.

“We aren’t gay.  But we won’t ever NOT be together.  Does that make sense?”  His gaze was full on ...holding her eyes captive so he could catch any slight sign that this was falling apart.  He didn’t know he was sealing the deal with her right at that moment.  Those eyes were cisterns of  green as troubling as an oncoming oceanic storm.  His lashes, black and thick and long framing them like a perfect picture.  The instant for her to be “okay” with this situation had long since passed.

She had known him a total of one day when she knew she could never live without him in her life again.  He was like her new drug of choice.  Everything felt amazingly perfect when he was close to her.  Life felt do-able.  She hadn’t met Sam until last night.  He hadn’t made things complicated or worse or confusing...he had clarified what she knew all along which was that part of him was missing.  Sam was that part.  With him in the world alongside Dean she knew things would always feel do-able.  No matter what happened.  Sam solidified their team...whatever that was...she wanted in.

What was in question right at this moment, however, was who would be sleeping in which bed.  She didn’t want a life where she slept in one bed and this man who breathed life into her being was in the bed beside her with someone else.  She couldn’t even draw in a full breath at the thought of that.  But how to ask?  How to clarify?  She knew she could never spill an ‘I love you’ on him without fear of him running fast and far in another direction.  

“I want you.”  She said, making sure not to break his gaze.  She was oblivious to the lava that was burning its way through him as he gazed into her face.  “If Sam is part of you...then that’s what I want.”  It was settling deep in his cock and he knew he was so far gone he would beg her if he needed to.  It was scary to feel this for anyone who wasn’t Sam.  He finally swallowed, thickly...and began nodding slowly so he could really take it in.  She held up her hand to stop him as the lava continued it’s slow burn through him.  

“I want to sleep with you, Dean.  Every night.  I want to see you every morning with your eyes inches away from mine.  I want to be what you call home.  Sam can be a part of that home...but it’s you I need.”  There.  It was all out of her.  He could tell she felt relieved...he was horny as hell.  He wanted her right here, right now...but his impatient dick was going to have to pause for a hot minute while he made sure he had heard right.

“It won’t be ‘normal’.” he said, rubbing his hands together before he took hers and held them tightly to his chest, “Probably no Christmas with the family or babies and pre-schools for a long while.  No new car and a mortgage.  But you’ll be safe...from whatever comes.  I swear it.”  His face a portrait of seriousness that she had never witnessed on another human being.  They sat this way in silence for what felt like hours, both lost in thought.  Breathing.

***

“Hey, dreamer….”  Sam rustled her hair, leaving his overly large hand on her head as she tipped her face up to his. “You okay?”  He knitted his eyebrows together in concern.  His thumb lowering to her jaw and running idly along the shape.  Her heart was beating faster by the second at his closeness, his height, his cosmic eyes on her face, his thumb...damn.  

It paused on her chin, moving enough to trace her lower lip, slowly pulling her mouth open just the slightest… She didn’t know if he was consciously doing this or if their constant proximity made him so easy with her that it was like touching your pet.  She was afraid to speak, swallow...breathe.  Because it would break this thing that was happening right now.  It would expose her arousal when she tried to swallow down whatever had lodged itself into her throat.

Sam wondered what the hell he was doing...it had been harmless.  He wanted to break her reverie and get her packing before Dean started bitching at everybody...but she was so far in her head she didn’t notice him at all...and before he could stop himself his hand was on her and there was that surge of electricity up his arm.  His view of her from here was all curves and soft spots and the line of her chin seemed safe enough...if he had stopped before he could reach her lips.  He knew they would taste like Dean and the thrill of even aching to taste them made him half hard.  The thought that he was getting hard directly in front of her face was even hotter.

Air was escaping her mouth...warming then cooling the tip of his thumb and he wanted badly to place it inside her mouth and pull her to her feet...pull her firmly against him so she could feel how hard he was just touching her head.  His heart was like a bass drum comically beating against his ribs...throb, throb, throb in time with his dick.  Their eyes locked in a silent challenge.  Who would break this electric field first?  Who would give in and dip a toe into the direct current that was just below the surface?

He unconsciously palmed his dick, trying to tame it into submission before it full on tented out the front of his jeans.  Her eyes were drawn there, and suddenly she realized what was going to happen on her kitchen table if she didn’t move quickly.  She stood, his hand falling away and gently grazing her breast on the way down.  They both made some sort of “aaah” sound as she glided between him and the chair and moved out of the room in silence.  He leaned down on the chair and table, gripping them with all his feeling.  HIs hair falling forward over his face as he dropped his head to his arm and took a few steadying deep breaths.

****

The world whizzed by outside the car window.  It had done that all of their lives.  There was a deep familiarity about being inside the car and driving to Bobby’s.  Every road they would take was one they had been down before.  Sam and Dean had not had a chance to talk about the job, but Sam’s iPad lay between them on the front seat, ready for Dean to get up to speed at the next gas stop.  Having a passenger in the back seat wasn’t totally foreign to them either.  Having one who smelled so delightful and drove both brothers to sexual distraction was relatively unique, however.  

Dean had his mind focused on the music, on the freedom of being on ‘a job’ for the first time in ages.  He didn’t know how big a shit storm they were headed into so he was feeling really relaxed and happy at the moment.  When he glanced in his rear view he had a fantastic view of his wife, her face half turned out the window, her hair gold in the sunlight...the scent of her perfume and shampoo wafting once in a while around his head.  Yep, he was in a damn fine mood.  Sam seemed to be brooding ...but he was no stranger to that beast either and as always he felt assured he could totally control every aspect of his life at this moment in time.  This was where he felt best.

********

n the reflection of her window she could see Dean smiling, singing, glancing back at her occasionally.  She could see the world speeding by...she had no real idea where they were but was unconcerned, in the scheme of things it didn’t really matter much.  The other reflection was Sam.  It depended on the slant of the sunlight, it would come and go but that made the moments when she could stare openly even more precious.  

****

Everything felt like it was moving slowly inside the car.  She watched Sam lick his lips.  An absolutely boring moment unless you wanted to taste those lips.  His head tosses as the wind mussed his hair were about to make her insane...sending waves of heated Sam shampoo hair scent into her corner of the car where she was trying to sink into anonymity.   The ripple of his muscles, she wanted to call them sinewy, under his shirt...aching to be touched.  The width of his back… she could easily hide behind him she imagined.  She watched his big hands as they ran together over the top of his head and clasped on his neck.  

****

She thought of this morning at the kitchen table.  His hand on her face...a conduit to her aching center which seemed to run an open current from her to his dick.  He had palmed himself right in front of her...he was hard.  He was touching her and she was making him hard.  Those hands...holding his head...she wondered what it would feel like to have them deep inside her body.  Holding her solidly to the Earth while the rest of him rocked her far and away.  Her liquidy center felt like she was working overtime to soak her panties and she shifted uncomfortably, wishing for five minutes in a restroom alone to relieve her ache.

****

Her bored brain shifted gears and she imagined his hand wrapped around his hard cock...slipping into the waist band of his jeans and rubbing it gently?  or vigorously?  Was it big?  Oh it had to be… Was he hairy or smooth down there?  What did he think about?  Was she ever part of his fantasy? What did he imagine doing to her?  She wondered what he tasted like there...thick and hard and dripping.  She wanted so badly to know the answers to all these questions.  Her sigh was loud and unintended but both male sets of eyes pivoted to her flushed face.

****

“I…” breathe, “I...need to…”

****

“Use the restroom?” Sam suggested.  

****

“Yes. That.  Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

****

“Yeah, that’s what she always says…” Dean muttered, getting a black look from Sam.

****

“She’s not used to this...pull over somewhere Dean.  Don’t be an asshole.”  Sam glanced back at her and gave her a thorough look...taking in her high color...her widened pupils...her chest rising and falling with deep, full breaths...the line of her legs spread ever so gently apart...and one solitary hand resting a little too close to her…

****

“Just pull over!” He nearly shouted at Dean who shot him a look of irritation.

****

“Got it…” Dean glanced at her in the rearview and shot her a wink that almost stopped her heart.  

****

How the hell was she going to stay in one piece with all this turmoil inside of her?  She needed to take Dean and literally ride him until she could no longer close her eyes without feeling him filling all of her spaces and taste him on every inch of her skin.  It would be wonderful to do just that...they had spent hours before doing so much worse to each other… but it hadn’t slowed the dreams of Sam.

****

She turned her focus fully to the back of Dean’s head.  She leaned forward, placing her lips against his ear nearest the car door, “I can’t stop thinking about you...I can smell your skin.” She said to him, running her tongue around the edge of his ear and placing a kiss just below it in the small, hidden spot on his neck.  He sighed deeply, shifting in his seat.  One hand released the wheel and arched to grab her head before she could move away.  “Hold the wheel…” he half murmured to Sam before he turned his head and met her full on with a kiss.

****

His lips were lush, relaxed and pliant against her mouth, his tongue darting in hot and hard and surprising her.  She sucked in a little air before he deepened the kiss and poisonous hot flames started in her gut...rioting for more...faster.  Their noses, both long and straight found their places beside each other and each took in deep sucks of air, inhaling their partner and causing a silent battle inside two chests as hearts pounded loudly, pumping blood to the required areas. She had a death hold on the back of the car seat...trying to keep him from pulling her over onto his lap.  His hand gripping her head in a solid clamp, rubbing slowly through her hair as he continued to readjust his lips, biting her...sucking her in and finally releasing her.

****

“Oh Come ON…” Sam said loudly beside Dean.  “Can we drive here?”

****

“You…” Dean mouthed to her silently, “are in some deep trouble…” and she felt ridiculous bubbles of excitement release inside her at the thought of what all this trouble might entail.

****

“Dean..” Sam said impatiently.  Dean turning back around shot his brother a glance.

****

“Well aren’t you a grumpy pants?”  Dean chuckled.  “There’s a gas station.  Finally.”  He sighed loudly… “We need a break...like a lunch break.”  Sam rolled his eyes at the implication.

****

“So I sit alone at the table while you two disappear into a restroom and come out twenty minutes later all ruffled up and stinking like sex juices?  No thank you.”  Sam ran his hand through his hair again for clarification.

****

Dean leaned into him as he parked the car.  “Soo…. You want to come in the bathroom with us?  Is that what you’re saying?”  Lifting both eyebrows to a beat or two he kept Sam in his gaze.

****

Sam’s Adams apple bobbed a time or two as he swallowed and opened and closed his mouth like a bass on a hook.  “Sooo not what I meant…” he gagged out finally.  “Just please don’t make me sit there by myself I hate it, Dean.”  He gave him sad Sam face and Dean relented, slapping the steering wheel, “You’re killing me Sammy boy!”  a beat passed slowly…”God I hope they have pie here...since I’m obviously not tasting my own…”  earning himself a groan from the car’s other two occupants.

****

***********

******  
**


	2. Greedy Eyes (cont.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...further adventures of...

She wondered if Dean was purposefully driving past every single “Bates” looking motel they passed...and every time she heaved a loud, frustrated sigh he promised her they would be there just over the next hill.  Sam passed out against the window, snoring softly was oblivious to this ongoing teasing.  She crossed her arms over her chest and kicked gently against the back of his seat, “Dean, seriously I can’t sit back here another minute.  I’m gonna get car sick or something.  Just barf diner food all over the back of the Impala...wonder how long that will take to get out of the carpeting?”

He laughed out loud, shaking his head in disbelief.  “Jesus, I thought Sammy was the biggest complainer I had ever known in my life...but baby you take the cake.”  He glanced up at her in the mirror and the oncoming traffic lit her pissy face as she raised her eyebrows at him.  “Come on up here...sit between us.  I swear we are almost there, babe.”  He patted the seat next to his own butt and moved his cardboard box of 70’s rock onto the floorboard under his feet.

She mulled it over...thinking briefly of the seat belt connector which would most likely be lodged up her ass crack, but if she had to stare at the back of their heads for even another half hour it would be too much.  So she clambered over, trying not to kick Sam in his head.  It was a snug fit, and sure enough the hard metallic seat belt thingy went right into her crack.  “Mmmph.” She grimaced pulling it slightly to the side and settling in more deeply.  

“Don’t crash.”  Dean gave her one of his charming little smiles, “I had not intention of it.”

She pulled his jacket onto her lap, he had discarded it into the back seat ages ago.  She set her hands down under the coat, warming them with her own thighs.  Dean was focused on the road, singing slightly off-key and word for word to the song on the tape player.  God, she hated 70’s rock.  No one had warned her this was part of the bargain.  She realized Sam’s iPad was wedged into the crack by his thigh and she idly pulled it loose wondering if there was a signal way out here.

She punched in his date of birth and the screen cleared, revealing some grisly images of human remains in various states of dismemberment.  Her eyes widened but she remained quiet, looking at the other open tabs.  She opened the next window and was thrown into a page about mythic creatures in the local lore.  What the hell was a wendigo?  Another page covering the dangers of something called Werewolves which of course she had heard about but this was completely new information, much more terrifying and creative than any movie she had ever watched.  There were a bunch of police reports, missing persons reports, M.E. reports and she finally held the iPad up and looked at Dean, “What the HELL is all this about?”

Sam bolted upright at the tone in her voice and caught the end of a death look from Dean.  He blinked his eyes quickly, looking for the source of the disruption, much like he had been doing his whole life, and his gaze settled on the glow of his iPad in her tiny, little hand.  

“That’s just some stuff I was researching for a paper I’m working on…” Sam stuttered out trying to grab his horror-filled device out of her hands.  She was giving him a look, somewhere between complete disbelief and total disgust.  “WHY would you be writing a paper on this kind of crap?”  He reacted then, and as he would later reflect it was probably not the best route to take.  He grabbed her wrist which was swallowed into his huge grasp and he squeezed until she yelped and let go of the iPad.  “NONE of your business.” he spat at her, startling even himself.

She rubbed her sore wrist, “Excuse me?”  She looked at Dean for back up...for some discipline for his obviously wayward brother but his grip was firm, white knuckling the wheel as he gazed straight ahead and his lower lip had completely disappeared beneath his top teeth as he bit to keep silent.  “Oh, really?  So that’s how it is?”  She gave each of them an ‘eat shit’ look and crossed her arms furiously over her chest.  “Unbelievable.”  she shook her head and rolled her eyes, lips pursed in complete frustration.  She could feel tears burning behind her eyes and she did NOT want to cry right now.

Thankfully, they pulled up a drive at that moment that lead them into a freaky looking, dark and silent junk yard.  She sniffed loudly, still trying to win control of the tears and looked around her in total terror. “THIS is where we’re staying?”  

“There’s a house.” Sam bit out.  His own lips pursed in fury.  He turned his face toward the window.  He wanted to scream at Dean… He wanted to bellow, “How could you?!!  How could you let her just pick that up and look at it after I just told you it looked bad…”  But he held his tongue, his stiff back telling Dean all he needed to know.  The car had barely stopped when Sam flew out his door.  He yanked open the back door and grabbed their bags, heading directly for the front door of the house which lingered on the edge of the darkness looking slightly intimidating.

“Look…” Dean started as he threw the car into park.  But she was gone, sliding swiftly out of the car behind Sam and walking stoically up toward the house.  Sam had already opened the door, flipped on a light switch and was inside the hallway with their bags when she peeked inside.  She could hear Dean screaming and cursing at himself down by the car as he cleared out all the travelling trash and locked it up tight...stomping loudly through the grave as he muttered and fumed.

******

Sam pulled her into the kitchen, his hand around her arm like a velvet clamp.  He pushed her gently against the wall and pressed slightly against her to keep her from moving.  “I’m soooo sorry.”  He whispered frantically.  “I did NOT mean to grab you like that or say that…”  She had not even a moment to push against him or argue before his lips were on her forehead.  Kissing and whispering over and over, “soo, soo sorry…would never hurt you…”  He turned her face up to his and her breathing hitched in her lungs...freezing around the words of anger and protest that were on their way out - stopped short by his face.  He looked so concerned and upset, his own eyes dark and shiny pools as she realized he was near tears.

“I would ...never… hurt you.”  He said once more, very slowly.  His eyes roaming her visage to see if she believed him.  “I...I know that, Sam.”  she finally managed to choke out.  He pulled her in then for a hug.  A tight, full body hug...his hands roaming over her back and tugging her closer and trying to bring her comfort at the same time.  His mouth moving against her hair, “...you so much...could never… shouldn’t have... “ was all she could catch as all this was happening so quickly, in just the time it was taking Dean to clear the space between the car and them.

Dean pushed the door shut with some force and Sam released his hold on her, flicking on the kitchen light.  He moved in long strides toward the fridge and threw it open, “Ahhh…” he sighed out, grabbing two, cold, beer bottles.  “Thank you, Jody!”  He turned to Dean holding them up in a triumphant gesture.  Dean stopped short inside the kitchen door frame, his gaze moving between Sam with the much-needed beers and her face as she stood, stock still against the wall by the light switch.  

“So, it’s good then?”  He asked, hands firmly on his hips like he would kick anyone’s ass who disagreed with him in this moment.  

“S’good.” Sam agreed, popping the caps off the beers and handing one to Dean.  He ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat.  Dean raised his beer halfway to his lips as he looked for clarification and she smiled, wanly, still holding the wall for support.  “It’s good.  Where do I sleep?”

******

The suitcases on the bed, Dean turned to her and sucked air through his teeth.  “C’mere.” He ordered in a way she had become accustomed to.  She moved to him, trying to keep a small pout on her face.  It was incredibly hard to stay mad at him and this irritated her greatly.

Dean kissed her, missing her lips and cheeks...giving her more of an air kiss.  “Look, Me and Sammy have some stuff to talk about, k?”  At the semi-doubtful look she gave him, he knew he was skating on some thin ice.  He paused then, reaching for her.  His hands, one on each arm, kept her slightly in front of him, “We talked about this maybe happening, remember?”  She nodded.  “K, so I need you to just trust me, trust US.  You can do that, right?”  She nodded again, meeting his gaze directly.  She opened her mouth, thought better of it and closed it again, adding another nod so he would know that she did, in fact, trust him.

“Are you leaving?”  her words were quiet and small.

“What?  No...no.  We just need to talk...about...some of the things you saw on that tablet.”  He pulled her in then for a fatherly hug and then gently placed her aside.  “Get some stuff unpacked, we’ll probably be here for a while...I’ll be up later.”  That was it...end of discussion.  She watched his back pass through the door frame and she kicked it shut behind him, hoping that it didn’t come across as childish as she was feeling right now.

******

When she opened her eyes the sun was slanting in through the windows...dust dancing in the streams and it was a pleasant thing to see.  She stretched like a cat and almost hummed with content under the thick, quilt covering her frame.  Her eyes moved to the other side of the bed and there was Dean, sleeping on his back, one hand tucked behind his head, the other resting on his chest as it rose and fell in slow, deep rhythm.

She lay there admiring the gentle rise and fall of his outline.  His jawline, long aquiline nose, strong forehead, hair going in all directions...her love for him was like a living thing inside her and she felt it throb painfully.  She had never felt so strongly toward someone and never expected to in her life.  It was sometimes scary and sometimes satisfied her greatly.  She let her eyes roam across the freckles on the bridge of his nose...looking for the three in a row she especially loved.

She was feeling none of the previous days’ frustrations, and had decided last night that if there were in fact monsters in this part of the world she wanted to know nothing about them.  She slid from the bed and eased quietly out of the room.  As she neared the bottom of the steps the front door swung open and Sam came through, bringing in the warm air from outside and his own boyish energy that always surrounded him like his own personal bubble of positivity.

He was wearing a dark, blue suit and tie.  His shoes shiny, his hair slicked back he looked like an undertaker.  “Funeral?”  She jabbed. “No...no...church, right?”  

“Ha ha.” He closed the door behind him and removed his coat jacket, slinging it onto the kitchen chair.  He loosened the tie, and slipped off the shoes.  Her eyes never wavering from their steady watching.  He was avoiding her questions, that much was obvious.  

“K, so...you just felt like dressing up for a walk in the junkyard...I can work with that I guess.”  She came down the last few stairs.

“I brought donuts...I had to go looking like a cop…” he quipped.  Hoping to gain her grace as he held the unseen bag aloft.  “You love long Johns right?”  He raised an eyebrow at her.  The double entendre hung in the air with awkward weight.

“Is this a formal interrogation?  Because I feel I should have representation…”  She smiled at him, grabbing the bag and peeking inside...indeed there was a chocolate frosted long john...her favorite.   “Mmmmm...thanks.”

She said, heading to the sink and getting a glass of water from the tap.  She leaned against the counter and when she looked up Sam had shed his white, button up shirt.  The white wife-beater underneath was doing it’s job trying to hold everything together underneath.  She coughed a little on her water.  No one should look so delicious, ever.

“You gonna keep shedding clothes?  I feel like I should leave the room…”  she smiled at him playfully, taking another nibble of her donut.  He moved slowly toward her, making her pause.  

“If I do... will you watch?”  He slid his belt off with a whispy sound and tossed it toward the table.  She watched as it landed in his shoe.  This was uncharted flirting.  She glanced back at him as he popped open the button on his dress pants with his right hand.  He raised his eyebrow at her.  She was stuck mid-bite, chocolate clinging to her top lip.  She could feel it there, but if she licked it away at this moment in time it would look like the invitation it was.

He slid his zipper down about halfway, his left hand lazily rubbing underneath his t-shirt on bronze skin...her favorite section of his tummy.  His eyes on her with heat as her gaze moved from hand, to hand, and back to his face.  He released the zipper and his hand hovered there over what might or might not have been his amazingly hard cock.  Her imagination was running rampant and the dark dress pants were not offering up any answers.

He slid forward a little closer and she exhaled...a small sound that revealed every single dirty thought running through her head.  The muscles in his arm...she couldn’t describe the way they were sliding seductively under his skin, aching to be touched and admired.  She was so happy to oblige.  

“You’ve uh… you’ve got some chocolate…” He purred, his voice was deeper and cloudy with what she was praying was lust and not some cruel joke of her hearing.  His thumb was there, then rubbing her top lip clean of chocolate and he slid his thumb inside her mouth.  She closed her lips around it and immediately sucked it into her hot mouth.  

He made a noise, a growl or moan of sorts and moved closer still.  Between them was a small, small amount of air.  He pressed his thumb down on her tongue, holding it captive and she couldn’t take her eyes off his face.  It felt like her nipples were burning through her nightgown and she was a slow, hot ember below being fanned by the air surrounding him.  “Sam…” she whispered around his thumb.

God she looked so fuckin’ sexy like this, her eyes wide, pupils dilated, flush full on her beautiful cheeks and his thumb buried deep in her mouth.  He had never been so jealous of Dean in his life.  He ached to lift her up on the edge of the sink and bury himself inside her as far as he could get.  Her nightgown, a pale, pink flowery thing that would never stand up to his restless hands if he should decide to tear away at it.  Right now she was 100% his...her forgotten donut dangling from her fingers.  He pulled it away and placed it carefully on the counter.  

Lifting her chocolatey fingers to his own mouth he licked them...slowly, attentively and kissed her palm...laying it to rest on his solid dick.  Her eyes never left him and he could feel her heat, smell her body ready for sex...ready for him.  HIS right now.  He popped his thumb free of her slack mouth and cupped her face, lowering his swollen lips to hers.  It was all the encouragement she needed.  

Her hand clamped firmly onto the front of his pants, rubbing the length of him through the material and he moaned wantonly into her mouth.  He sucked at her lips, licking slowly into her and twisting his hand into her hair to pull her closer.  He slid a thigh firmly between hers and pressed against her.  She arched up into him, lifting on her toes to try and reach his height, to set astride his thigh, and get in full contact with him.  He was giddy with power over her.  “Take that big brother.” his mind thought jauntily.  

He slid his arm around her waist and lifted her slight weight, pressing her sweet round ass onto the counter as his other hand finally relinquished her hair and slid purposefully down the front of her...cupping and squeezing her breast and continuing on down the slope of her hip to the edge of her nightgown.  He slid it beneath the fabric, her skin feverish beneath his touch as she pulled and pressed and rubbed at him until he felt like he might lose control of himself before he ever got as close as he wanted to be with her.

“Where the HELL is everybody?”  Dean bellered from the top of the steps as he began his noisy descent...quick, quick, slow...down the stairs...he glanced into the den.  No one in there, no answer from anywhere in the house.  He was less than thrilled to have awakened to an empty bed when he had so badly wanted/needed his wife this morning.  He needed to make sure she wasn’t upset, make sure she was his...every second of his life he needed to know and he half hated himself for it.  

“Ollie Ollie oxen free!”  He yelled again as he meandered through Bobby’s dining room, exactly as it had been his whole life...but empty of any other people.  Through the double doors of the kitchen he saw them.  Sam at the kitchen table, hot coffee, fresh donut...half naked as most of his Fed suit lay on the table across from him.  She beamed at Dean from the sink, also eating a donut...thank God Sam had thought of that.  He bore down on her with purpose and pulled her in for a long, deep, thorough morning kiss.

“Where were you?  I was…” shit, he had almost said lonely.  What kind of a wuss said that?  “I was looking for you.”  He noticed her high color, an air of warmth and fluidity to her that suggested sex.  He decided it was his own ache and the soft sunlight shining in on her that was making her look so sexy at the moment.

He raised his head in greeting at Sam as he grabbed a cup of coffee for himself.  “Find anything worthwhile?”  Sam shook his head, sticking the entire donut in his mouth more to avoid answering Dean than because he was hungry.  At least not hungry for the damn donut he was currently choking down as he tried to still his heart before it beat its way out of his chest.  He knew if he talked his voice would still be thick with the lust that had pooled in his still erect cock which was completely disappointed by this turn of events.

“So what’re we doing today?”  Dean asked, grabbing three donuts out of the bag and starting in on the first one.  “Fishing anyone?”

**  
********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music that was helpful:
> 
> Wasted my Young Years  
> London Grammar
> 
> Come Find Me  
> Lykke Li (really love her right now)


	3. Greedy Eyes (cont.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam takes a look back.
> 
> Dean and his girl finally get some one on one.

“Where the hell are all the fish?” Dean demanded...checking his rod for the fiftieth time in an hour.  “Two days...two damn days we’ve been sitting here waiting on some damn fish.  I’m not gonna clean it … that’s all I’m saying.”  Sam smiled.  He was resting against the bank, knees bent, hands tucked behind his head.  

“Patience, Dean...this requires patience...and quiet”  He whispered the last.  Hoping Dean would take the hint and shut up for a while.  

“Are you gonna clean it?”

“Don’t you think I’ve cleaned up enough of your messes?” Sam teased.  “No...I’m not cleaning it.  I don’t think I even like whatever fish is maybe living in this water.  Leviathan?”  He chuckled.  

“I think you two are totally missing the point here.  It’s about being together and relaxing and just enjoying being one with nature and… SHIT!” She said smacking her arm.  “Damn mosquitos.  They’re like freaky fuckin’ big up here…I don’t think I like leviathan either”  She looked at Dean with some disdain as he reeled his hook in yet again.  “Dean.  Can we just go get a pizza, please?”

He turned to her...trying hard to look serious after her leviathan comment, she was clueless and adorable.  “This. Will. NOT. Break. Me.”  He shook his fist at the water… “I’m a man!  I can catch fish and feed you fish.”

“I don’t like fish.” She said quietly, not for the first time in the last two days.  “Pizza.  I like pizza.  In fact, I LOVE pizza...Dean?  Sam? Help me out here.”  Sam raised his hands skyward as if to say ‘what can I do?’ and she sighed.  “Dean, if we go back now…”  she ended there, waiting for him to turn around - which he did -

“If we go back now?  What?”  He gave her a sly, half smile and raised his eyebrows.  She nodded at him, at this point she would agree to anything if he would just take her to some air conditioning and a bath.  “Yeah?”  He double checked.  At her smile and head nod he cheered up, “Alright then, we’re done fishing, Sam...come on.”

“You guys...seriously need some other hobbies.”  Sam sighed, hauling himself up, swiping absently at the mosquitos and the grass clinging to his jeans.  “Like, involving doing things outside the bedroom.”

“We fished.”  Dean said proudly.  “Two days in a row...we’ve earned a day of rest.”  He grabbed Sam’s pole and his own and took off toward the car.  “...and then pizza…”   It sounded like maybe he was whistling and he did a little heel kick as he walked away.

Sam snorted at him like he was learning impaired and as she turned to follow Sam grabbed her hand, loosely.  She turned to him with a questioning look.  He looked after Dean and decided they were a safe distance from him.

“Was the other day an accident?”  Sam looked insecure and childlike as he cast his eyes down at his own feet waiting for her answer.  “With us, in the kitchen...was that an accident?”

“I knew what you meant, Sam.”  She said, stroking his hand with both of hers.  Her eyes met his and they were guarded.  “It’s kind of complicated, don’t you think?” She questioned.

“It is.  But I need to know.  I mean, because for me there’s more there...you know?  Like it’s not just something that we sort of stumbled into...not for ME anyway.  I know we can’t really talk about it right here and there’s a lot going on...just ALL the time but I can’t stop thinking about it, about you...and then about you and Dean and it gets me jealous which makes no sense at all because it’s not like you were ever...mine…” He sort of trailed off deciding that his non-stop talking was sucking up all their few moments alone.

She rolled words around and around in her head...there had to be a way to say this that didn’t sound as deceitful as it felt.  She opened her mouth and closed it again.  She unconsciously gnawed at the inside of her cheek as she processed.

“No.  It wasn’t an accident.  I think of you too.  I don’t understand it - so I think it’s a good thing to just leave it alone.  For now.”  She squeezed his hand and pulled free from him, turning before he could say anymore and hurrying after Dean.  

She mulled over how awful she would be feeling right at this moment if she were Sam and she had to sit in the car on the way back knowing she and Dean were going to have sex.  Even if it was just ‘please get me out of here I’ll do anything if you just get me out of here’ sex.

“Jesus, Sam come ON!”  Dean smacked the top of the car a few times for emphasis and then slid into his seat.  She slid in next to him in the front seat, purposefully putting Sam in back so she wouldn’t have to look at his downcast face all the way back to the house.  

He got in and slammed the door a little too forcefully.  Dean glanced back at him, “What the hell’s your problem?  Easy on Baby, k?”

“Whatever.” Sam grumbled.  “Hey Dean, drop me off at that little bar in town will ya?”  

Dean gave him a quizzical look, “Day drinking, Sammy?  What’s up with you?”

“Don’t judge me, Dean...just drop me off.”

“Ok, okay.  No judgements here.  Just wondering when you decided to let loose?  Maybe you can find yourself a nice country girl to spend some time with.”

“Yeah,” Sam kicked the bottom of her seat with a purposeful movement, “maybe?”  She felt the kick under the seat but it was more like a stone that toppled into her stomach as she imagined Sam wrapped up with some little country girl. Damn Dean, why did he have to say something like that?

The ride into town was full of heavy silence.  Dean had no idea what got under Sammy’s skin but it must be pretty hefty to bring on this kind of gloom.  Normally, Sam wouldn’t day drink even if Dean was.  But if he needed a little pick-me-up, Dean was more than willing to oblige.  At least it would give them the house to themselves for a change.  That was an opportunity he was relishing more by the minute.

Sam slammed his way out of the car with a mumble of, “I’ll find my own way home…” and Dean left a cloud of gravel dust as he turned the car and headed back to Bobby’s place.  

“Be home by nightfall!”  Dean yelled as he drove away.  There was work to be done and he didn’t want to deal with hungover Sammy.  That was worse than pouty Sam.  “You good?”  He asked, squeezing her hand briefly.

“Anxious to get home.”  She answered.  Dean believed her, but it sounded more like she was looking forward to the ‘home’ part of that sentence more than the time alone with him that was coming.  “Try not to sound so excited…” he trailed off, feeling that the day had taken a downturn but damned if he could put his finger on what had gone wrong.

******

Sam downed his third (fourth?) whiskey shot.  God he hated that throat-burning, gut-busting shit.  But beer just wasn’t gonna cut it today.  Of course the bartender was female and built like she was meant for tempting men.  He wondered how some women got so lucky.  Sam had no idea that most women felt this way when they looked at him.

She had flirted with him once or twice and after that pretty much got nothing but a slight smile she called it, “Women troubles?”  He nodded and she smiled at him, poured him another shot and went back to polishing glasses.  His toes were tingling and he had a feeling it was time to switch over to something a little less likely to end in bar brawl.

It was amazing to him that in a town as small as this one that the bar was about ½ full.  How the hell did that happen?  He looked around and most of them looked like regulars...well every town need to have some predictability he guessed. Lord knows he had traveled enough to know that if nothing else.

The sad wail from the jukebox (who still had those anyway?) made him feel sort of mellow and not quite as depressed somehow.  It meant that someone else in the world at some point had felt as low as he was feeling right now.  There was comfort in that.  The steel guitar bleeding out all of his heartaches.

He really didn’t have that much to complain about he supposed.  He loved his job which had slowed considerably for some reason but being a hunter was his blood and he knew he would always be on the prowl for something odd popping up out of nowhere.  He wasn’t clear what the hell was killing people off in this town but he and Dean would take care of it.  They always did.  Again, some level of predictability in every town.

Another plus, he worked with his brother.  The biggest pain in his ass and the closest friend he would ever/ had ever known.  Knowing someone had his back 24/7 was a damn good feeling, even if life was rolling along like a slow-moving creek most days.

Fighting over women had NEVER been something he and Dean had dealt with.  He had a type, Dean had his type and they were on opposite ends of the spectrum of womanhood.  He guessed he could blame this one on Cas.  

It had been Cas who had sent Dean into rehab in the first place.  Dean in rehab, what a joke.  Sam had tried to take his place, but buying Sam as an alcoholic wasn’t gonna work I guess.  You had to have a certain cockiness and arrogance and self assurance/self hatred that would sell the story and Sam did not possess all of those qualities at one time quite as well as Dean could.

Dean had gotten her out.  Dean always pulled through when it was for Cas and damned if that didn’t get more than a little annoying.  

When Sam had first seen her she was sleeping in the back seat of the Impala.  Dean’s jacket covering her shoulders, curled on her side a mess of hair spread around her head.  He couldn’t see her face clearly, couldn’t even really tell what color her hair was, but sweet.  That was the vibe just coming off her in waves.  Sweet and innocent and completely out of both hunters’ league.  Wounded and healing and alone and suddenly theirs to protect until Cas said otherwise.

Sam couldn’t believe Dean married her.  Dean swore it was important and Cas had insisted.  He couldn’t believe Cas would put her in the middle of their crazy lives but then Dean had informed him that was also changing and they now had a home...a HOME.  

It was something Sam thanked God for every morning when he woke up.  Everytime he looked around the clean bathroom or the kitchen fridge stocked with actual food and actual leftovers that didn’t come in take out boxes.  Every time he saw her with Dean it became a little more real and everything else became a little ‘less’ real.  That scared him somewhat.  Maybe they were becoming soft.

Lord knows he had been becoming anything but soft.  Put one over-sexed man and one under-sexed man in a house with one sweet lil’ thing and it was all Sam could do to keep himself under wraps most of the time.  At first he had blown off steam with one night stands and some short-term, going-nowhere relationships.  He never took them home, that was his sacred space...his family and he was not sharing that with anyone.

It wasn’t like one day he’d seen her naked and decided she MUST be his.  It was a slow burn that was just there one day.  A glint of sunlight off her hair, a sparkle in her eye as she laughed at something he said...the way she touched him sometimes and was completely unaware that he had never in his life been touched with that much compassion and he guessed...love.

Her little bare feet on the kitchen floor as she moved around cooking or doing laundry.  The shape of her back when she was on tiptoe kissing Dean.  It was ridiculous really but he had begun to really resent the moments when she was touching Dean instead of him.  He had maneuvered himself between them so many times it was head splitting.  Dean never seemed to notice, he was just so complacent about Sam’s constant presence that he accepted it as normal.

When Sam had the realization that he was seriously going under and tried to pull himself back to reality...well that was just when her pretty green eyes had seemed to find him wherever he was.  He could feel her heated gaze on him when he wasn’t looking and suddenly it was hard to be IN the room with her and Dean.  It was a chore to keep space between them and maintain his composure.  He thought he’d been doing a damn good job.

But then he’d seen it in the papers.  The murders making the news even as far as they were from Bobby’s neck of the woods.  That same morning his thumb had found its way into her soft, warm mouth for the first time.  He didn’t know what had come over him, one minute he meant to pull her up out of her seat and the next he was beside her and every inch of her seemed to have his name written on it.  

He had meant to just ruffle her hair, just shake her out of her little dream...but her face had been so soft, like velvet under his palm and those lips…  Sam shook his head.  The buzz had settled deeply into every inch of him and he was feeling like maybe it was time to start the walk back to the house.  He had no idea how much time had passed but the same songs were playing on the jukebox again and his honky tonk appreciation moment was over.

He threw his cash on the bar, raised his jaw at the bartender and headed for the door.  She watched him leave, feeling a little less sexy than she had when she got to work that morning...damn lookers, they almost always fell for her.  “That poor schmo must have it bad.” She thought to herself, dismissing him from her mind.

******

Dean wasn’t waiting for her mood to change.  He wasn’t going to unload Baby just yet.  He lept from the car and swooped her out her side into his arms and kicked the door shut.  She buried her face in his neck, inhaling deeply.  She needed to distract herself from Sam.  She kissed Dean’s neck, licking the salt and chewing gently on his ear.  He let out a small low growl that stroked a path down her back landing in her tailbone.

He kicked open the door, then kicked it shut heading straight for the couch he and Sam had slept on more times than he could remember.  The red crushed velvet looked sensual and inviting with her slightly flushed skin glowing on it.  He stripped off his tshirt, popped the button on his jeans and unceremoniously kicked his shoes off across the room.  She giggled from the couch, slipping her own shoes off and placing them neatly by the couch.

“I think you can slow down a little, Dean...Dean?”  He was hopping around trying to get his jeans off without falling over.  “Freakin’ skinny jeans!” he cursed quietly.  That sent her into gales of laughter.  “Did you just say skinny jeans?  Like...sk...sk...skinny…”  and she was off on a laughing spree.  “I’m gonna pee my pants!” She yelled, jumping up and running for the stairs.

“Son of a bitch.”  Dean growled, sitting down and popping his feet out of the legs of the jeans.  He threw them at the door way.  Then he realized she was upstairs...closer to the bed than this damned couch and he was after her...socks, underwear and a raging hard on bobbing along as he took the steps two at a time.  He made enough noise for her to realize he was in the bathroom and then hid behind the door waiting.

“Dean?”  She peeked her head into the bedroom… “you get those jeans off yet?”  She snickered… “I’m sorry...but that was too much.  A manly man fishing in skinny je…!” He grabbed her and half dragged half carried her to the bed.  Pinning her down with her arms above her head and his legs over hers.  “That never leaves this house.” he threatened, nipping her neck and shoulders with biting kisses.   She was squirming under him, lifting her hips and purposefully rubbing against his hardness.

“Let me up...I’m all dressed still...except my undies..” She flirted with him.  His eyes moved over her blouse and he sat up… allowing her to pull it up over her head.  She reached for her bra and raised an eyebrow.  “Nope, no...leave that for me.” He grumbled, both hands hooking into her shorts and easing them over her hips.  He sighed appreciatively when his eyes spotted her bare skin underneath.

He ran a hand slowly up her leg, resting it gently against her.  She sighed deeply and lay back, her eyes on his chest, his arms, his face.  His own green eyes mirroring her own, deep and thought filled… He slid his body between her legs...continuing his gentle pressure on her, one finger sliding through her and into her and she moaned and arched up into his hand, already needing more of him.

Her hands reached for his boxers, tugging insistently and he helped her wiggle them off.  Her hands gripping his ass and pulling him firmly until they were pressed tightly together.  He lowered his lips to her bare skin, little licks and kisses lighting her on fire as he moved up towards her chest.  The hand supporting him relaxed so he could release her bra and his full weight sank onto her causing the bed to creak under her...his breath nearly as sexy as the look on his face.  

When there was nothing left separating their skin he flipped her over onto her stomach, straddling her hips.  She could feel his hard cock pressing against the crack of her ass.  He spread his hands wide and ran them up her back...following them with his arms and his entire chest...then sliding all the way back down until he was sitting up again.  It was the most sensual full body contact they had ever had.  

She moaned under him, relaxing and feeling completely in the moment for the first time in weeks.  He leaned down over and over, slowly kissing and sucking and biting his way up her neck and over her ears and into her jawline, forcing her to turn her head and kiss deeply into his mouth.  She was pressed down and twisted and completely in his control and he hadn’t even said a word to her.  Her hands were gripping desperately at the blankets, needing something to hold, to feel.  

She moaned and growled in frustration and he chuckled softly against her ear.  “You need something more?” he purred.  “Yes.” She sighed into his mouth.  He slid down and hoisted her hips in the air, leaving her face down on the bed.  “You want it like this?” He asked, sliding his hands through the crack of her ass and into the pooling wetness, pressing in two or three God she didn’t even know...she forced herself back onto his hand, moaning.

His fingers twisted slightly, pressing deeper and retreating at a maddeningly slow pace and when she made a frustrated sound he add his thumb, rubbing her clit with a firmer pressure than she ever used on herself and she shot forward in pleasure and surprise.  Grabbing her hips again his flipped her and hauled her down to where he was poised on the edge of the bed.  He stood up, dragging her with him and placing her feet on his shoulders.

She was aching to touch him, to taste him, to have him close enough that she could make him moan and feel as wonderful as she was feeling right now.  But he was being elusive, making it purely about the sex, toying with her when he knew how much she loved having her face buried in his arms, his neck, his thighs...any place where she could feel him all around her.

He held his cock in his hand...rubbing it slowly...letting her watch.  He rubbed the head against her, teasing her and pulling away again until she cried out in frustration.  He smiled down at her, completely enjoying the power he had over her.  Without warning he thrust deep into her, elliciting a cry of pure joy.  “Dean…” She moaned, reaching for his forearms to pull him down, but he gently pressed her hands away and continued a relentless pace.

He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and she felt like she was about to overheat her orgasm was pressing gently in the mystical spot that made her twist and arch and ache to get it out and wrap around him and suck him completely inside of her body.  Nasty words of sex and filth were on the tip of her tongue and she bit them back, not wanting to let him know how much she was enjoying him.  Suddenly, he pulled just to the edge of her...gentle folds of skin gripping, trying to pull him back in.

Sweat dripping from his face onto her stomach.  She mewled in frustration, trying to get him to thrust home again.  She grabbed her own breasts and squeezed them mercilessly, pulling and twisting her own nipples trying to get off any way she could.  His eyes watched intently and he slowly began sliding into her until their pelvic bones were pressed together and finally he sighed deeply and lay down on her...continuing a steady rhythm into her.

This was that moment when she normally felt awkward, legs up in the air, bent like a pretzel, but damn she just didn’t care...he could get so much more inside her and one of his hands had disappeared and was rubbing her asshole, pressing gently...and then moving to rub her clit until she let out an animalistic grown and grabbed his head, pulling him to her and kissing him harshly, teeth rubbing against his, tongue thrusting madly into him.  

He moved his lips to her nipples and sucked deeply, his tongue flicking over them and circling around before he bit down and sucked them in again.  She sat up as far as she could reach and buried her face in his hair...sweat, man, a scent so uniquely Dean...and suddenly it was all too much and she cried out, not wanting to do it or say it out loud but the words were pouring from her, “Yes, there, yes Dean oh please don’t stop just don’t “ gasp for air and there is was and she was a shuddering mess under him.  Whining and gripping him, bruising his arms with her fingers.

She knew he was good at holding his composure.  She wasn’t sure if he was close or not, he was a closed book when it came to this...so she made the decision without him and pressed him away, taking her turn now to roll him over and kiss him.  Returning the attention to his nipples, one hand snaking down to grasp his hard cock, wet with her and slipping her hand up and down in a different tempo than he had been using.  He moaned...a good start.

She let her breasts slide down his chest, followed by her lips, thick and red from his aggressive kisses.  She sat up to admire his dick in her hand, a size and shape that were extremely pleasing to look at, to feel in her hand...and she loved the head of it...slid her tongue around it and left her one hand on his hip...feeling his ass flex under her fingers when she did just the right thing.  A tell she would never share with him.

She knew she was good at this particular skill...had perfected it early on in life and now she sucked him deeply into her mouth, careful not to gag herself or brush her teeth against him.  She didn’t need her hand now and it moved to his balls, rubbing and pressing just behind them as he growled and his hand twisted into her hair and pressed her...trying to rush her.  She resisted him, keeping her own steady pace, up...lick, suck, down...tug, rub...and all the while his toes curled and uncurled, his ass cheek clenched and she felt the fine sheen of sweat under her hands and he came with a muffled shout and some words she wasn’t sure about but they sounded Latin.

She swallowed him down...feeling amazingly sexy and fulfilled and happy.  He tugged her up without much of a pause and kissed deep into her mouth again, a gesture of gratitude and affection, filling her with warmth and compassion for the life he had lived before that had left him so needy.  They lay there quietly, watching the fading sun dancing across the ceiling as it got slowly darker.

His breathing so even and steady she was sure he had fallen asleep.  He tugged her close all of sudden and leaned into her hair, “Do you love me?”  The jolt of surprise and excitement that hit her heart was like an adrenaline shot.  These words had never been discussed, ever.  She sat up, looking him deeply and steadily in the eyes, “What did you say?”  He tried to look away but she held his chin, keeping his gaze.

“Do you love me?” he repeated.  A glaze over his eyes, was he crying?  She took his face in both her hands, “Dean, why would you ask me?  I thought I made it obvious every moment of our lives.  I love you like no one I’ve ever known or loved in my life.”  He looked relieved, happy and still a single tear slid slowly down his cheek.  He swallowed thickly.  He nodded at her and turned away.  She realized he hadn’t said the words back to her, but somehow she knew that was gonna take some time.  That was okay.  For tonight he was here with her and that was enough.

**  
********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Todays musical help:
> 
> Sturgill Simpson (for Sams honky tonk experience)
> 
> Spotify Channel:  
> Sexy Beats for the rest.
> 
> ENJOY!! Please leave kudos and/or ideas or suggestions where you'd like this to go!!!


	4. Greedy Eyes (cont.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things continue to get interesting... the old life mixing with the new... oh just go read it!

******

Sam paused outside the closed door, listening and weaving just slightly.  A feeling of dread had slipped over him as he got closer to the house.  He didn’t want to walk in on them, he didn’t want to think about what was going on.  He didn’t need to see Dean’s discarded jeans on the front room floor.  But he had stopped anyway, listening like a teenager trying to catch his parents doing “it”.

He leaned on the door frame, resting his head on his hand.  He was spinning.  He was too drunk to do anyone any good.  He felt like he wasn’t good enough to do anyone any good at any time.  Damned depressive thoughts of booze.  Loser second son, always racing after Dean, trying to be Dean.  He thought to himself, not for the first time, what if you just left?  What would you do?  What could you do with your life?

But he had been down that road before.  It was lonely.  It was filled with guilt and shame over not being with Dean.  It was some co-dependent love sick thing he had going on with his older brother.  Not something he wanted to dwell on too often.  He twisted the doorknob, not sure what the hell he was doing.  The door swung open with a low growl, but it was a familiar sound and neither of the bodies in the bed stirred.  

He slipped his shoes off at the door and padded softly across the room to her side of the bed.  They were pooled together in the middle, twisted in blankets and each other.  He could see the outline of her naked body as the moon shone in through the window and his heart let out a stabbing beat to remind him how deeply into this mess he was allowing himself to sink.  What the hell was he even doing in here?

He sat down on her edge of the bed, it creaked and protested loudly under his weight.  He stretched slowly out, waiting for her to wake up.  He folded one arm behind his head and crossed his ankles.  His other hand resting on her hip.  He silently prayed he wouldn’t hit Dean’s hand.  His thumb stroked absently over the flesh of her, goosebumps popping up to acknowledge him and she wiggled her hips just slightly, not yet fully aware of his presence.

She wrinkled her nose against Dean’s neck.  Something smelled like booze, and a LOT of it.  She eased up onto her elbow and sniffed the air.  Definitely alcohol doused air.  “It’s me.” a voice said quietly next to her.  She turned her head slowly, “Sam? What are you doing?”  She eased herself out of the pretzel she was twisted into with Dean and pulled some blankets around her naked skin, only then aware of Sam’s hand on her thigh.

She rolled to face him, his hand sliding off of her hip and taking her hand.  He pulled it to his lips and kissed it.  She let one leg slide comfortably into a ‘V’ shape on top of his, and propped her head on her hand, “What’s going on with you?”  Dean snorted a little, mumbled and rolled over to the other edge of the bed, leaving a cool space at her back.

Sam shrugged.  “Didn’t want to get into bed alone I guess.”  He let his fingers play with hers, rolling onto  his side so her leg was now on the outside of his and their faces could lay on the pillow.  “You smell.”  She wrinkled her nose again.  “Couldn’t drink it away?”  He shook his head, putting his top arm around her waist and tugging her closer.  “Soo… you didn’t meet anyone you wanted to go home with?”  She tested the waters gently.  His face nuzzled her hair, “Nope.  No one is you…”

“Sam…” it came out breathlessly, and she had meant to admonish him, but it sounded more like a sigh of desire and he felt his body heat up.  He pressed his face closer to hers, letting his lips play on her skin and against the edge of her hair.  “You smell like Dean.”  He whispered a little grufflyy.  He swallowed hard against the knot in his throat.  

“It smells good, the two of you together like this.”  He burrowed his face into her hair, and rested heavily on her.  She could tell he was passing out, but just didn’t have the heart to kick him out of the bed.  When his breathing evened out and his weight was heavy and solid against her, she let herself enjoy looking at him in the moonlight.

She wondered if Dean would be angry if he woke up and found Sam there.  Something inside her thought, probably not.  They had a weird dynamic.  One she didn’t believe she would ever understand.  It was full of a love so deep and a rage so buried that it had welded them into one person with two distinct personalities.  She was married to one, but they both felt like hers.  She wondered if it felt that way to them as well.

She was surrounded by the quiet night, a fan, and the sounds of their light snoring.  All in all it was a comforting feeling.  She had never felt quite as restless, and as safe all at one time.  She could hear something in the distance making some noise...scratching maybe?  She dismissed it as wild animals in the trash bins.  What a mess that would be in the morning.

Sam murmured something unintelligible and shifted his considerable weight until he was draped over her, leg and arm both pinioning her to one spot.  She rolled onto her back, allowing his limbs to follow.  At least like this she could breathe and her own arms were free to touch, caress and fondle him at her leisure.  The muscles she had been coveting for months were now hers to relish with long strokes full of uninhibited desire.

Sam’s plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows smelled like cigarette smoke and stale beer, but it did nothing to mask the glorious smell of Sam which was enveloping her and dizzying her senses.  She decided this would be it.  She would drink her fill of his skin, his scent, his mass while he slept and then she would find a way to set him down easy.  

She would let him go, for the sake of her marriage to the amazing man next to her.  The sane portion of her brain felt good about this decision.  The part of her that was allowing his leg to rest heavily in the ‘V’ between her thighs knew she was kidding herself.  His huge hands felt warm and good in hers and she traced each finger, looking at their square ends and slightly chewed nails.

She brushed his hair back off his face and took in the angles, the stubble, the relaxed look which removed all the worry lines that lived there during the day.  She wondered if she was the one giving him such a blessed peace or if it was the alcohol.  Her chest ached with the hope that it was her.  That he would have chosen to come in here and make peace with her even if he wasn’t completely wasted.  

******

She had barely completed the thought before a light filled the room in a flash of brilliance and blinded her momentarily.  She didn’t cry out, didn’t feel afraid in the least, although she blinked several times to reassure herself that she hadn’t fallen asleep and been dreaming herself.  

But there was, in fact, a man standing at the foot of the bed looking sternly at her.  She could imagine what a harlot she looked like at the moment in this bed with two men sprawled on either side of her and a scent of sex lingering in the air like it’s own being.

She tried in vain to push Sam off and sit up.  “Be calm.” The man said.  Holding up one hand at her like a crossing guard.  He placed his hand on her foot and in a blink of an eye she found herself sitting on the crushed velvet couch she had been on earlier that day.  

Dean’s skinny jeans pooled on the floor at her feet.  She looked a little bewildered at the man who was clearly not a man at all.

He was dressed like a vacuum salesman.  Wrinkled tan trench coat, dark slacks, white shirt and blue striped tie.  His hair was wildly disheveled and completely smoothed down at the same time, and his eyes were a crystal blue that held her completely silent even as she looked him up and down in total confusion.

“I’m not really sure what a vacuum salesman looks like.” He growled out at her in a flat monotone, “but that is not what I am.  My name is Castiel.”

She pulled the comforter tighter around her, grateful for it’s protection.  “Hi.”  She shrugged at him.  “I’m Kristine.”  

“I know.”  He said.  She felt like offering him a lozenge.  

“I’m here to tell you a few things, and then I will place you back beneath Sam.”  He was so matter of fact she felt shell shocked...what the hell was going on?  Surely she was having some asphyxiation dream as Sam smothered her under his massive weight.

Castiel sat next to her.  Taking a deep breath like he was carrying a heavy burden he needed to unload but was not sure if he should.  “What I have to tell you will probably come as a bit of a shock, however, after sensing your inner feelings perhaps you will not find it a distasteful task.  You must fornicate with Sam.  I know you feel … somewhat disloyal for some reason regarding this topic.  I assure you it is of the utmost importance.”

She lifted her eyebrows.  Blinking with force several times because now she was positive she had fallen asleep and was having some sort of conscience salving dream to justify sex with Sam.  How utterly ridiculous and childish of her.

“How do you even know that I WANT to have sex with Sam?” She asked reasonably.  

“I am aware of many things you might think I should not know.  I am aware that you have broken through a barrier with Dean that no one besides Sam has previously been able to permeate.  He has allowed himself to love you, even if he has not spoken it aloud just yet.  He has allowed you to create a home for him and Sam.”

He looked at her with his eyebrows knit together.  “This creature they are here to eliminate is just a distraction to remove you from the safety they have created in your home.  To lure you to the wilds so you are vulnerable.”  

“Creature? Vulnerable to what?”  She shook her head and looked hard at his face to see if he was pulling a fast one on her somehow.

“Oh that’s right.  You know nothing of the creatures.  That was Dean’s choice.  Hmmm.”  he sighed.  “Just believe that you are in some danger here, that Sam and Dean believe you to be protected here but you are not.  You must insist that they take you back to your home.  But most importantly you must fornicate with both brothers.  You must not do what you did today and allow Dean to waste his seed in your mouth.”

“HEY!” she shouted, standing up and nearly dropping the blanket, “What are you a perv or something?  How the hell would you know that?  Why would you bring that up at all?”  She began pacing in a small tight circle, dragging the blanket with her.  “Who do you think you are?  Like, you just show up and start telling me how things are and what I have to do and who made you boss anyway?”

Cass sat in total calm, allowing her to vent.  “The answers to all of your questions are unimportant right now.  Clearly I am no one’s boss.  I am, however, the protector of the Winchester line and you are foretold to bear the heirs which are integral to continuing the work of the Winchesters long after Sam and Dean have died.”

She sat abruptly in a pool of blanket on the cold wood floor, her naked bottom protesting in a frenzy of goose bumps.  What the hell was this freak talking about?  She shook her head to clear it, or in denial she had no idea...but no,no,no,no seemed to be her answer.

“You do not have much say so I’m afraid.  I will now have to wipe this part of your memory.  All you will retain is an insistence that you return home, and a desire to mate with Sam and Dean that will surpass most of your human needs.  Horny?  I believe that is what Dean calls it.”

“What about the creature thing?”  her voice was small and insecure.  “What’s it want? What do you mean after Sam and Dean have died?  Why would they die?  Who are you?”

“You of course.  If you are destroyed so is the Winchester line.  It is no different than the many times that John and Mary and even Henry have been targeted for destruction.  But, of course you know nothing of them.  It’s okay to be sleepy now.”  Cass comforted her.  

Her head was feeling a little heavy.  Why was she mad at this guy again?  Where was Sam?  She was feeling cold… But wait she thought there were some things she wanted to ask this man before he was gone.  Was she dreaming?

“Before I leave. You will retain the knowledge of the heirs...but you will not understand it. You will retain the knowledge of the creature you spotted just outside the house tonight. That is all.”  She glanced worriedly at the window….”Yes. That’s where you saw the creature.  You will be able to answer questions about it.  But you will not remember me.”  

She nodded, of course.  She ran her hands over Sam’s arm...enjoying the ripple of skin and muscle as he tightened his grip on her.  She was so tired now...it was time to sleep and remember the creature….had to tell Dean about that...she mumbled incoherently as Cass disappeared, leaving the three bodies warming the bed in blissful sleep.

******

Dean’s hands and feet were searching for her before he ever fully woke up.  His head was still fully under his pillow and he wasn’t ready to be up yet.  Part of his head was thinking that he better not wake up to an empty bed again.  He found her easily, curled against his side, and he rolled to face her, his  hand reaching out to curl into her hair.  

He wriggled his hands under the blanket, looking for her skin, with any luck a breast or hip, he was not expecting to encounter another hand already resting loosely over her.  His head snapped up and he rubbed at his face, ready to be on the defensive if needed.  

Sam’s shaggy hair was falling over his face and into hers as he burrowed into the darkness under her.  Dean’s heart was pounding roughly and he adrenaline coursing through him.  He blinked at the situation, furrowed his brow and lay back down, his eyes on her face, she looked peaceful, rested and totally at ease.  He chided himself silently.  Of course Sammy was in here, how many nights had he been in here?

He had been finding his way into Dean’s bed for as long as his memory went back.  Crawling, sneaking in small, cold, scared...looking for the warmth, comfort and safety only Dean provided for him.  Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about Kristine being wrapped under Sam.  He had never pondered sharing her as part of the package deal.  

Although, it wasn’t an altogether bad thing.  Dean realized his days were as numbered as Sammy’s and even laying low wasn’t going to keep the creepers at bay forever.  Having Sammy as his backup wasn’t the worst idea ever.  Thinking back over the past week, month, maybe two...things began to make sense...Sammy’s moods, Kristi’s jumping when he entered a room unexpectedly...there had been something brewing there and he was too stupid to see it so close under his nose.  Hmph.

Sam readjusted himself, resting his head on top of hers, his breathing steady and deep, his face looking just as peaceful as hers.  Dean could see the plaid shirt from his side of the bed and took some comfort from the fact that they were not all lying here naked together which would just be awkward and something he wasn’t ready to discuss just yet.

*******

He slid out of bed and into a pair of sweats, exiting the room and bouncing down to the kitchen to get some coffee.  He stopped short, startled and his heart pounding out an adrenaline-filled beat as he realized the front door was open.  Not only open, but torn from it’s hinges open and outside on the lawn.  He pulled a gun from the table to his right and held it ready as he eased toward the opening.

Looking outside he could see the porch wood scratched deep in an unmistakable message.  Wendigo.  It was such a simple thing really, compared to the many other things he had encountered but it terrified him to think that it had ripped the door off the house and none of them had awakened.  Not one of them had heard it.  They could all be dead right now.

“Sammy!”  Dean shouted, and moments later heard him shout, “Stay here!” and come barrelling down the stairs, shotgun cocked and ready for war.  “DEAN!”  Sam sounded startled as he spotted the door and couldn’t see any sign of his brother.  “Dean!”  His head swivelling with amazing precision as he searched.  

Dean peered through the open door back at his brother.  “Wendigo?”  Sam asked, feeling confused as hell.  “Looks like.”  Dean said grimly.  “Why? What the HELL?”  Sam ran his hand through his hair, shotgun hanging at his side.  

“It’s like they wanted us to know.  What they are.  That they are here.  It’s like they wanted US here…”  Dean worked it through his head.

“GUYS??”  She sounded slightly hysterical, sitting frozen in place in the middle of the bed.  “Dean?  Sam?  Guys!! Are you okay??  Did something break in?”

She heard Dean cursing and muttering as he ascended the stairs and turned into their room.  He was met with wide, frightened eyes.  His jaw was working as he tried to think of what to tell her, how to explain this without explaining everything.  He sat on the side of the bed and she scooted to him, wrapping herself around him for comfort.  “Is it okay?”

How to answer that question.  “Yeah, it looks like something tore up the porch...got at the front door too…”  She pulled her face up and looked at him squarely, “Dean, I saw something out there last night… it was some sort of creature thingy… it looked human but not...like it was part animal but that’s not right either...it was bloody and awful.  I thought I must’ve imagined it.  Is it dangerous to us?  Do you think?”

“You SAW it?”  He swallowed down the nausea, “It was right there, outside the window and you saw it?”  Jesus.  The image of her being torn apart ripped through his head and heart.  “Why didn’t you wake me up?  Was Sam home?  What the hell were you doing downstairs in the middle of the night??”  

He realized he had a hell of a grip on her upper arms and was practically shaking her as she crumpled up and started to cry in front of him.  “I...I… I...don’t know, Dean.  I thought… it was just a dream…” She broke off, tears pouring down her face.  “Please let go, you’re hurting me.”  He released her and she slid onto the floor in a heap.

Dean was paralyzed by anger, fear, intense helplessness.  Sam flooded through the door and scooped her up, “Hey, hey...what the hell is going on in here?”  He looked at her arms, red, angry finger prints forming on them  “What the HELL Dean?”  

“She saw it.”  Dean said in a whisper.  “It was right there, Sammy.  It could’ve killed her.  I didn’t even hear it.  Did you?”  He raised angry eyes to Sam who shook his head dumbly, thinking he would remember seeing or hearing a wendigo on his way in the door.   “What time did you get home?”  Dean asked, standing up now.

Thoughts of Sam meeting the beast at the door being half turned, half eaten, blood and body parts littering the front porch before ripping the door off and then tearing Kristi apart were now eating their way through his brain.  How could he have missed it so close to the house?  What would he do if he lost Sammy.  What if he lost them both.  He couldn’t breathe…  He pushed past both of them, leaving Sam to comfort his sobbing wife who, while confused, could not possibly understand the depth of what he was experiencing right now.  

He began packing his hunting bag.  Throwing things inside in a rage.  He had blocked out the entire world.  All that was left was to destroy this thing and take his family home.  Away from hunting, away from this kind of horror.  Where these images never littered his mind or stopped his breath short and squeezed his heart with fear and horror of loss.  He would do it alone.  He didn’t need Sam for this one, better for them to be here together and safe.  He could handle this on his own.

**  
********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical influences while writing...thank you Spotify!
> 
> Transatlanticism - Death Cab for Cutei
> 
> Let it Be Me - Ray LaMontagne
> 
> Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd
> 
> Please leave comments...kudos...suggestions!!! I would love to hear from you!!!!


	5. A Wind in the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...read on and find out...

“Dean?  Dean...where are you going?”  She scrambled to the side of the bed, wrapped up in unforgiving quilts and sheets.  She looked desperately for some clothing.  “Will you just hang on?  Dean!”  He continued grabbing things and shoving them in his bag, his face a mask of indifference and coldness unlike anything she had ever experienced with him.  “Sam?  Some help?” she begged.  Dean paused, raising his head and shooting a glare at Sam.  Sam’s lips set in a firm line and he nodded at the silent agreement.  

 

Dean threw a glance around the room as Kristi fell out of bed and finally found a shirt.  She threw it on in haste, tugging her head through the hole and pleading all the while. “Dean!  You said we were best together, remember?  All of us…”  Sam stepped forward and grappled her without warning, her arms pinned at her sides, her body cemented against his.

 

“Sam?  NO!  Sam, what are you doing?  We can’t let him leave.  He can’t leave us!”  She flailed helplessly against his chest, her size no match for his strength.  Dean paused at the door long enough to look back and give her a wan smile.  “I love you guys.”  And then he disappeared down the hallway.

 

Kristi was sobbing now, lashing out at Sam who stood like a stone guard against her freedom.  His silence as maddening as Dean’s departure.  “We love each other… Babies…”  she cried to the empty room, “there are supposed to be babies…”  Sam’s eyebrows knit in confusion as he searched his mind for a reason why she might be saying that.  He was still half drunk and nothing but Dean’s unspoken look was coming through with complete clarity.

 

Dean stumbled out what little remained of the front door and headed with purpose to Baby.  He threw his things in the back seat and fell in.  He started the car and made it to the end of the drive before he paused for a moment and allowed himself to breathe.  The terror, the anger, the love had all mixed into a deadly cocktail inside him that was poisoning his reason and making him reckless.  He knew this.  He could hear his Dad in his head berating him.  

 

He sped off into the night.  He needed a drink to collect himself.  Then he was going to kill something...kill it dead.

 

************************

Sam released her finally and she lunged free.  She ran to the window and could see the headlights disappearing down the dark road.  Spinning, furious she faced Sam head on.  “You are going to tell me what the HELL is going on.  ALL of it.  NOW.  Or I swear to God I will walk out that door and you will never see me again.  And if you think Dean is mad now?”

 

Sam swallowed and took a very long, deep breath.  He sat down on the edge of the bed and let his head fall into his hands.  “There’s too much to tell.  There’s no one place to start.  Just ask me your questions and I’ll try to answer them.  All of them.”  He shook his head as though it was too full for anything to make any sense even to him.  “He’ll be back.  He always is.  He said he loves us.  He NEVER says that.”

 

“Don’t you think I know that?  Don’t you think that terrifies me?  Why would he say it now?  Why would he say it right before leaving to battle some, thing?”  She moved to the floor at Sam’s feet and placed herself between his legs, on her knees so he couldn’t look away.  She took his hands in hers and pulled them to her chest.  “Sammy.  Sam.  Please tell me what he’s fighting?”

 

Sam let out a tired sigh.  “The world.  Ok?  Dean is fighting the world.  I thought…”  he laughed sardonically, “I really thought that it would leave him alone for a while.  Maybe forever.  Like if we just stopped looking for it then it would just back off.”

 

“But you never really stopped looking?  Did you, Sam?  You looked every single day for something...I’ve watched you.  You brought us up here.  You researched all that stuff and maybe that’s what brought it here.”  He looked up from the floor and his face had that sad, little boy look she had seen there too many times, “I’m sorry.  If I did do that...If it was me… If he gets hurt…”  He let out a choked sound and lay back on the bed.  

 

She crawled up beside him and lay in his arms.  “I won’t think that way.  No.”  She fell silent and they just lay there until she pulled a quilt over both of them.  “I should go fix the front door.” Sam said absently, “...soon.  I should get it fixed soon.”  She nodded but neither of them had the strength to move or think about getting up. It was sinking in slowly that the fire beneath them both, the solidity and the glue of what had been holding things at a shaky “OK”  was gone...nothing but a dust cloud headed down some dark highway.

 

***********

Dean slept in his car.  It was nearly as familiar as sleeping in a bed.  He was parked in a dark grove, hidden but for the shine off the chrome when the moon passed through the clouds.  He felt pretty dark on the inside too. The heat of the alcohol burning through the anger portion...he was now left with the things he was more uncomfortable with:  fear and love.  

 

His mind whirled. At every bend a new vision of the horrors that had been a hairs’ breadth from his life last night.  A deeper fear was that word he had heard through tears...baby.  Hand in hand with that would be father.  He was in no way ready or able to be a father.  He had never, in fact, planned on having any kids at all.  

Now Sam, he would make an amazing dad.  Firm, kind, loving, goofy enough to make a parent any kid would love to have.  That thought spurred a less attractive one...maybe he was supposed to be sleeping with Kristi.  Maybe he was going to have to let his brother into his bed in more ways than one.  The thought thrilled and sickened him.  “I would do anything for them.  Anything…” he mumbled sleepily.  “Whatever it takes, Cas...you know me. Jus’ gotta keep ‘em safe...can’t lose ‘em…” 

 

Cas watched him from a distance, as he always did.  Why did everything have to be so black and white to Dean?  Why couldn’t he have a child with his wife and allow his brother to help raise it?  Why was he so hell-bent on doing stupid things alone?  It was an eternal frustration for Cas who could see everything before and all things to come, with such clarity that it was maddening to sit idly by and let Dean constantly mess things up.

 

Cas felt a certain arrogance and frustration when it came to Kristine as well.  How could she be the one person out of all the world that was chosen for these two.  She was so flawed, so disappointingly human.  Cas felt clearly that he would have been able to make a better choice for both of his boys.  But, as was so often the case, no one had asked him.  

 

It never occurred to Dean that the beast could be tearing them limb from limb at the house while he was out here sleeping.  So conceited to believe it would follow him, but it had.  This one was for Dean.  Cas knew someone else had their finger on Sam’s life and that battle was going to be much more challenging.

 

***********************

 

As the morning light began to stream in the window, Sam was wide awake.  Truthfully, he hadn’t slept much and he really needed to pee, but having this woman snuggled at his side in his baggy tshirt made it impossible for him to move for any reason.  His heart was tearing apart into pieces.  One piece feeling like he should be with Dean and that as usual he was somehow letting him down by staying put.  Another piece was very angry at him for just leaving them like that, especially leaving him to explain what was going on to Kristine.  

 

One piece was full of love and utter contentment for this moment of peace, just staying in bed, waiting to see what the world would throw at him next, and feeling the heat of their two bodies pressed together.  She was in a deep sleep and had been all night long.  No bad dreams, no more crying, just overwhelmed and exhausted and for that, Sam was thankful.  No one needed to wake up and feel the realities of being a Winchester...or Sullivan since that was the name they were using.  Sam Sullivan...he hated how it sounded, but loved the collective tranquility it had lent to his life thus far.

He watched the trees outside the window, swaying calmly, and thought about the front door that was still open.  The urge to get up and fix it was beginning to overwhelm him.  That feeling of anxiety and panic winning over any calm that may have settled in him.  He needed to help Dean from here, he needed to brush up on woodland beasties and get Dean a location.  And so it was decided that he needed to move.

 

He slid out from under her arm and leg and she snuggled into the warm space left behind.  He covered her up and pulled the blind so she could sleep as long as she needed.  He headed to the garage for plywood and set about repairing the door, his mind running a million miles an hour.  She had been talking about babies last night.  Did she want to get pregnant?  Was she pregnant?  Maybe that was the entire reason behind not wanting any more physical proximity between them.  

 

Just the thought of it sent a boulder of dread into his stomach.  He didn’t want to watch her belly grow round with Dean’s child inside.  He felt an unreasonable wave of jealousy wash over him.  There was no logic in this situation anywhere and slight hangover that was still sticking to him like toilet paper on a shoe was making him feel more depressed than he should be.  

 

He had thought about kids...a long time ago...when life was much simpler and the world hadn’t be continually falling apart at the seams.  That dream had died with Jess.  Until this very moment when he realized how very much he wanted to be a father.  Realized that this particular dream was drifting further and further away the longer he stayed with them and had no wife, no love interest outside his own home.

 

He closed it all off and focused on fixing the door.  It was one single thing in his crazy life that he had some control over and he was going to cling to it.

 

**********************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical Credits:
> 
> Boy 1904 - Jonsi & Alex  
> In the Stream - S. Carey  
> Chord Left - Agnes Obel (Cas's song)


	6. Long Nights

Chapter Six:

The nights were the worst; long and dismal, full of slow ticking minutes and adrenaline filled breaths. Sam paced relentlessly with a gun at his side. She sat immobile most nights, in a chair in the corner of the almost-dark room. The tv glowed and noise flowed into the room in a low tone. No one was paying attention and no one spoke of Dean. It had been almost a full week since he stormed off half-crazed. He hadn’t called, hadn’t responded to Sam’s emails and texts, and numerous messages. They had silently agreed not to bring it up, but it was blatantly obvious it was on both of their minds.

Sam paused at every snap of a twig, every strong wind posed a potential threat. After a while, her eyes drifted away from him, some distant song she used to calm herself with played over and over in her mind as she traced the designs on the wallpaper for the hundredth time. She kept going back to that morning they had decided to “go fishing”. She wished again and again that she had just protested. When she found the tablet and the pictures, why hadn’t she made them tell her about it? She had acted like an idiot. Obviously, they didn’t feel they could trust her with something so personal. That fact hurt almost as much as the fact that she had convinced herself that Dean was already dead.

Kristi did not want to believe this, but her history with Dean did not run as long and varied as Sam’s. She knew nothing of his life before her, and in her experience people who disappeared for weeks at a time, most of the time, never came back. She rose quietly and ran her thumb along the spines of the books lining the walls behind the chair. The titles were odd to say the least. The Bermuda Triangle: A History, Folklore and Legends of Native Americans, Incantations and Spells, A Study of Firearms, The Bible, and Heaven and Hell… she pulled out the Native Americans book and settled back into the chair.

The lamp cast a warm glow and Sam stopped pacing and fixed his eyes on her. She seemed more fragile sitting in the large, overstuffed arm chair. The ancient book made her appear younger than ever and Sam felt his heart surge with a love and protectiveness he had never felt for very many people. Her eyes wore dark circles and in the light her skin appeared almost ghostly. It was almost as if she were fading away before him and he had no idea how to reach her.

“That’s a good read…” he started, hoping maybe this book, this night could pull some ground up that was stable enough to stand on. She raised her eyes and smiled, not speaking but waiting for him to continue. “Uh...Bobby, he’d make us read all those crappy books every summer when we’d end up here. My dad...he uh...he pulled this disappearing act my whole life. I guess that’s why Dean does it.” Sam paused and sat down on the loveseat near her. He took a shaky breath, “So yeah, my dad would go off on a hunt, that’s what he called them. We always just figured it meant women and whiskey, but he’d drop us with Bobby and it was more home here than anywhere else I guess.” She closed the book and tucked loose hairs behind her ear, mulling that over. “So Bobby? He...he passed?” Sam nodded. “Yeah, it was a rogue bullet, just a random thing that you never expect to take someone so fast ya know?” She did know. “I’m sorry Sam, that must’ve been rough for both of you.”

Sam leaned back into the loveseat and spread his legs over the arm, his mind going back to other days that weren’t necessarily better days, just days. “Yeah, we ate really good when we were here, no vending machine food. Bobby gave us our first beers. He taught us a lot about how to live under the radar and figure out problems that most people don’t even think about. He was a pretty amazing guy. Of course, he always called us ‘idjits’ but it didn’t feel like a put-down it was sort of an endearment.” 

“Bobby and Rufus, now those two had some stories. He’s a guy Bobby used to work with. Not friends, really but ya know they had a chemistry. Good guys.” Sam realized he was pulling her into his world, in a positive way. She was watching him with interest and her face had a light to it that he hadn’t seen in days. He decided he could do this, he could share the rough edges of his life growing up with her and maybe that would help her understand why Dean acted so much like Dean.

He told her about their Christmases at the hotel rooms. The freak accident with their mom. The bouncing around from place to place and school to school. He told her about Jess and college. He hinted that disaster seemed to follow them like an unseen shadow and she nodded as if she could get that. He talked about their “friends” who would kind of show up from nowhere just when they needed them most.

“It’s like you have an angel on your shoulder, you and Dean. I mean someone must be watching out for you two.” He agreed. “You said something, the other night. When you were upset, you said something about babies...I’ve just been wondering...are you pregnant?” She looked alarmed, “No, I don’t think so. I mean it was just some weird dream I had that had something to do with a baby...I can’t even remember clearly what it was about.”

That was a bold faced lie and she knew it, but hopefully Sam would buy it. She wasn’t ready to try and explain that whole event to him. “It’s just that I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t want me to...be...close to you anymore…” There was that damn look again, that injured boy he didn’t even know he had inside him.

She thought about it for a minute or two. She looked over at him, half lying on the loveseat, half spilling out onto the floor. Every inch of him tensed for her answer. She pursed her lips reaching for an answer that would somehow satisfy him and not be too far from the truth of it. “You…” she began carefully, “are so easy to be around, you make me feel so comfortable and cared for.” Sam rolled his eyes, waiting for the “but” which he knew without a doubt was headed his way.

She pulled her hair behind her head, letting if fall in an unconscious move that stopped his heart. “I’d say it’s complicated but that is just ridiculous.” She looked over at him again. He was half sitting now, his attention directly on her. “I have an idea. Stand up.” He stood, and she stood. He towered over her. “Take your boots off.” She directed him softly. He complied. “Now take off your shirt.” He raised an eyebrow but unbuttoned his top shirt and tossed it onto the loveseat.

She took a step closer to him. “I want you to tell me something that you like about me.” Both eyebrows shot up, “What? Why?” “Oh just do it…” she smiled up at him. “Ummm…” He sighed quietly. God, where to start? “I love that you’re so small, but such a strong soul.” He said quietly. She smiled a little more. “Well, I love that when you look at me, every time you look at me, it’s like you’re silently touching my body.” Sam hitched a breath and felt his adrenaline flow to his fingertips.

“I love that you breathe in my smell every time you’re near me.” He ground out. His chest beginning to tighten and heave. She smiled softly, “Well you do smell amazing. But I loved that you rubbed chocolate off my lips and let me suck it off your thumb.” He groaned and moved the slightest bit closer to her, leaving nothing but air between them. “I love that you let me lay on you when I was passed out and you carressed me when you thought I was passed out.” He reached a hand out and into the depth of her hair at the base of her neck.

Goosebumps fanned out on her body and she gasped. “I…” she breathed out, “I wanted…” He was pulling her in then, closing the non-space between them until she stood on his feet and stretched up to press against him. He lowered his lips to hers, “What did you want?” He breathed onto her, gently sucking her lower lip into his mouth and releasing her. She swallowed. There was a heat flooding into her limbs, warming her face and making her breasts ache to be crushed against him. “You.” was all she could say before his arms snaked around her and lifted her at once.

In her mind, it could have been like a hot scene from a movie where the guy lifts her effortlessly and she wraps her legs around his waist and they slam against the nearest wall and grind together until they are both naked and fucking wildly.

Unfortunately, her hips couldn’t spread wide enough to allow her legs around his sizable torso. He had his hands under her ass...pressing her against his dick, moaning and just moving them both rapidly up the stairs. She dangled there looking very non-sexy but feeling like a doll in the arms of a giant. At the top of the stairs he did stop, he did press her into the wall and he kissed her so deeply she felt like the back of her head might press right through the aged plaster. But it was only for a moment while he grappled with his bedroom door and swung it wide.

*****  
Outside, and very near to the house the creature was watching and waiting. It was prepared to strike tonight while they were vulnerable and unguarded and it found some distant satisfaction that when the hated one returned he would find these two entangled and dismembered around each other. If it had the capability to laugh it would have done so, but instead it growled quietly, watching the window and waiting.

Wendigo, that was what they called it. It mattered not because a name didn’t change what it was or it’s purpose. Part human, part beast it could rip the humans and their puny weapons apart. It wanted to feast on their flesh, to destroy love...and it knew that was it’s duty here...once the love was destroyed the “Hunter” as he was known would cease to exist...his soul dying and wasted until he became as evil as the Wendigo itself. It was a drive innate...but given direction it was bound to fulfill it’s duty...and should they kill its physical form, it’s soul would be free to find another to inhabit.

Let them come...let them try…

*****


	7. Chapter 7 - Flightless Bird

Dean washed quickly in the frigid mountain stream. Splashing his face repeatedly trying to clear his mind. He was so confused and he didn't understand it at all. He had been following the sloppy clues left behind by the Wendigo. It seemed too easy. He hadn't seen it once. He hadn't been attacked. It was as if it had disappeared but he knew that couldn't be. He worried intermittently that it had returned to the house, but he knew Sam was on full alert and would do what was necessary to take care of things. 

This always led his mind down an unpleasant path. He knew Sam wanted to take care of things. He wanted to take care of Kristine in ways Dean didn't like. Dean would close his eyes and images of the two of them would flood his imagination. Her small body, a body he knew every curve of, straining and reaching up to Sam. Of course Sam would have to reach down and lift her to hold her as closely as he wanted to. Dean knew the strength of his brother. was familiar with his broad chest and powerful arms. He must feel even more powerful, even more of a protector when you were a tiny bird being enclosed by them.

He would want to smell her, taste her...and be tasted in return. Dean knew how good it was to be the center of her attention. Just like that, sleep was gone for the night. Driving himself harder, pushing for faster results...nothing was working. He wanted to go home. He wanted to make things normal. He had considered asking Cas to wipe her memory of this time altogether. That didn't seem fair. He had been through that with Sam and the end result was always tricky. If he went back now he would have to explain things. She would find out things about him, Sam, their life. Maybe that was what he was most afraid of. Being transparent to someone who loved him was terrifying. 

So he stood alone, in a freezing river bed, trying to wipe it all away. He hated everything at the moment. He had no booze left. He wanted...sleep. He slowly dragged himself back to the car. Fighting his dry clothes on. He turned his way back to Bobby's. He knew he could sleep there. He was loved there. She was there. If things had gotten complicated with Sam he would fight through it like he had done his whole life. He would never hate his brother, and even if he stared dead into her eyes and saw no love in return...well, he couldn't hate her either. He had led her blindly down a primrose path made of lies. It would be whatever it would be.

Finally committed, he was even more exhausted as he pulled up the gravel road and parked in front of the house. The half repaired door staring him in the face and a whole lot of unknowns. He saw Sam's face appear at an upstairs window. His room, his window...and his heart sank a little. But not half a second later the front door flew open and there was a streak of skin, and blonde hair and tears running at him. Hurling herself at him and into his arms and sobbing with what sounded like joy. She covered his face with kisses, her hands searching wildly for any injuries she couldn't see.

"Okay, okay..." Dean mumbled halfheartedly even though inside his entire soul was singing with a joy he hadn't known was possible. "Dean, Dean, I love you. You're here. You're back. You're alive. Oh Dean, I love you so much..." She was unrelenting in her passion for him. Her words mixed with tears and sobs and laughter. "SAM!!" She screamed back at the house, "SAM he's here! He's ok!" Dean raised his tired eyes to the porch. Sam was standing there with that worried little knot between his eyes and a half smile playing around his lips.

"Get over here..." Dean husked out, and Sam was there in two strides, the powerful arms he had been imagining wrapping around both of them and squeezing unbelievably hard. A choked noise came from Sam and Dean understood it. "I'm ok." He answered. "I'm sorry. I ran out on you guys. I'm sorry..." Sam was shaking his head, "No, Dean. You're back. You came back. I get it. It's okay." Dean nodded as he met his brothers concerned eyes. "Tired." was all he could say. "Yeah, yeah, of course you are. Come on let's get you inside. You're so cold Dean." Sam took over immediately as the parent Dean had always forced him to be. "Let's get you warm. Get you into bed." 

He allowed himself to be half carried into the house on Sam. Kristine followed behind them, running ahead to grab the door and closing it, securing it, behind them. "Upstairs," she ordered, "I'll get some whiskey..." She rushed around behind them and Dean was falling fast, consciousness slipping sideways as Sam put him in the bed, someone was pulling off his boots and damp jeans. Something hot slid down his throat, burning his tummy with a magic heat. Darkness coming to swallow him at last. He could hear murmurs but nothing made sense, and then it was dark.

...................................................................................................................  
Sam closed the door and turned to face Kristine. Their eyes were locked, lips silent. Sam took her hand and pulled her into his room, quietly closing the door. "Look, I just wanted to say...that I don't want you to feel bad. Ya know? Like, guilty or whatever. Whatever was happening..." He gave her a slight smile and slowly shook his head. "I mean, we were just lonely you know? Missing Dean and bored of being locked up here..." She held up her hand to stop him. "So, you're saying that although nothing 'like sex' happened...that it was all driven out of a pure loneliness? He missed the simmer beneath her question. "Right." He agreed, "Yeah...that's what I was saying." She stuck out her chin and nodded slowly. "Oh, okay then...I get it. It wasn't real...whatever we feeling it was...yeah. ok." 

She shouldered her way past Sam and opened the door. Turning at the last second she eyed him carefully. "Would you just sit down for a minute so I can say this eye to eye?" He nodded and pulled out the desk chair, settling into it. She closed the door again. In two strides she was in front of him. She leaned in closely, their faces inches apart. She closed the distance slowly, sucking his lower lip gently into her mouth and breathing into him. She kissed him again, slowly and deeply and his head was spinning. His hands held her face, pulling her in tighter, edging forward to press against her. She grabbed his hair and tipped his head back, sucking softly on his throat and listening to his raspy breathing. As his arms reached for her...to place her on his lap, she twisted away again. "It's good to know, Sam. Thanks for clarifying that." 

He stared at her back for a beat, watching as she headed out the door. "Wh.. wait!" She looked at him, one eyebrow arched questioningly. "What are you...?" He cleared his throat. "Where are you going?" "Well...I'm going to sleep with my husband of course." Before Sam could still his racing heart she was behind the second door. He was alone and wondering what in the hell he was doing to himself, to her, to Dean. Nothing made much sense anymore. He doubted that it ever would again.

She closed the door behind her. Her whole body was trembling. She took several deep shaky breaths and made her way slowly to her side of the bed she shared with Dean. She shed her clothing until she was down to a T-shirt and gently pulled up the covers and eased in beside him.

His breathing was deep, slow, even, and he hadn't moved since they had left the room. She snuggled down beside him and lay on her side gazing at him in the dark. He looked beyond tired. His face appeared to have aged a couple years in the one week he been gone. She had so many questions for him, but didn't know where to begin. She tried to sleep but was unsuccessful. She was trying not to toss and turn for fear of waking him. In the end, she found it best just to curl against him and listen to his breathing and heartbeat and know they had another day for all her questions.

...........................  
Sam wasn't having much luck sleeping either. He tossed and turned; rolling up pillows and then unrolling them covering up and then uncovering trying everything in his power to find some peace. His body was on a slow burn that wouldn’t dissipate thanks to that kiss.

He didn't know how what he was trying to say to Kristine, had turned into something else. He hadn't seen her getting angry, hadn't felt that energy coming off of her until it was too late and by then it was clear. Sam had completely misread her emotions and somehow built a wall between the two of them that had never existed up until the moment the door shut in his face. 

He was so relieved to see Dean home and in one piece. He had so many questions for him about what happened during the week away. At the same time, facing Dean with all his emotions running so deeply. Sam couldn't imagine what it would be like to try to talk to his brother about what they'd been doing while he was out risking his life.

 

Sam wished he felt ashamed of himself. He wished he could tap into some emotion that reflected the black business of trying to sleep with your own brothers wife. He found no shame, no guilt, rather an anger that was buried under this unquenched desire he possessed to have her wrapped around him. He was damn angry at Dean for coming home. That was the truth of it. 

 

He had been so close last night, he had managed to seduce her into his room...to his bed. Her warm, arching body under him as he kissed and caressed her. Her little breathy moans stoking the fires that were burning below his belt buckle. Her shirt off, his shirt off, skin on hot skin and by God she was so silky smooth and burning for him. Her hands buried deep in his hair, tugging him closer and her mouth on his face, his ears, his neck and finally, gently licking at him and tugging his lips with her teeth. 

 

“Ughhh…” Sam sighed aloud, throwing his pillow at the wall. He got up and paced his room, feeling the need to run, or to hit something. He finally sat on the end of the bed, his head in his hands as he slowed his breathing and tried to work out their next move. It was in this moment of stillness that he heard the single, sharp crack of a branch breaking outside.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………..

 

There wasn’t time to grab a gun, a knife or anything useful before the windows on the North side of the house blew in. An explosion of splintering wood and glass carpeting the cozy den. The curtains hanging shredded and billowing in the evening breeze.

 

Sam was barefoot, his heart racing and adrenaline flooding his body. He had a single revolver, really bad hunter form. He flew out of his room and toward the stairs, freezing when he saw the size of the shadow that was moving slowly across the hallway. He felt like he was in shock, the only sound he could hear was his heartbeat. He wondered how Dean had slept through that cacophony of destruction, wondered briefly where Kristine was at this moment. One single thought shot through his mind, “They’re dead.” 

 

A cry of primal rage ripped from his throat as he flew down the stairs, shattered glass tearing at his feet as he moved heedlessly into the looming death trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Music Notes:  
> Lane Boy - 21 Pilots  
> Speedway - Counting Crows  
> Mad World - Michael Andrews  
> When you break - Bear's Den


	8. Chapter 8 - Face Your Fears

Dean slept on. It was as if he had been spelled into a mythical slumber, unable to wake. Kristine was now on the floor, beside the bed frozen in abject terror. Her eyes darted around the room watching for the entry of some unseen beast that she was positive was headed her way. She tried to crawl under the bed, but was hindered by a giant steel box that was wedged there. 

 

She found a handle on one end and tugged at it with all her might, moving it a little. There was no space for her if she couldn’t dislodge it, so she pulled harder, glancing up to the top of the bed every few seconds to see if Dean was waking up. The damn thing was heavy, and solid like a vault of some kind. 

 

She heard Sam’s door fly open and heard him bellow as he careened down the stairs toward whatever was pulling the house apart. She honestly wanted to help him, but felt completely unqualified to stop whatever he was after. She pulled harder on the box and it slid another few inches. “Dean?” she whispered frantically, “DEAN!” It was clear he was not going to wake up any time soon.

 

The house had become eerily silent. She couldn’t hear Sam crunching through broken glass anymore. No more walls had been blown apart. She could hear her own heart beating, and her breath coming in hard pants as she crawled to the other side of the bed and began pushing at the box with her feet.

 

Then there was a sound, like nails on a chalk board. It was close. Like right outside the door close. Throwing her hand over her mouth to hide her whimpers she turned slowly and her eyes fell on the shadows of feet standing right outside her bedroom door. There was breathing, a sniffing sound almost, and a listening. Suddenly, she knew it could hear her heart beating even though she had silenced all her other sounds.

 

“Hey ugly! Down here!” Sam shouted and she heard the beast move away much more quietly than it should have been able to do. She heard a gunshot and a screeching wail of anger/pain from the creature followed by a moment of silence and then what she assumed was Sam slamming into a wall. 

 

Spurred into action by the thought of Sam becoming the next meal for whatever the hell was in the house she pushed with all her strength and the box came free on the opposite side of the bed. She crawled painfully around to it, realizing she had just pulled something vital in her hip. “Please don’t be locked, please don’t be locked…” she chanted, and was rewarded with the sight of a hinge without a lock to impede her.

 

………………………………………………………………………………  
Sam knew his shoulder was dislocated, and at least one rib was poking him agonizingly as he fought for a breath. He was face to face with it now, the wendigo was bigger than any he had ever encountered. It was snarling at him, a disgusting ooze of drool falling from its fangs onto the shiny linoleum. 

 

It was wounded, but not mortally and it seemed to be healing as Sam lay there helplessly. The gun had skittered across the room and was now wedged under the edge of the fridge. Sam knew he would never get there in time if he tried to move toward it and he yelled out in pain and anger.

 

The wendigo would pause every few seconds and cock it’s head, listening, Sam realized to whatever was going on upstairs. Sam had to distract it. “What’s the matter ugly!” He yelled and then cried out in pain as a rib jabbed him again. “Finish the job!” It roared at him, and almost charged...pausing as it heard something more interesting. “What are you waiting for asshat!??” Sam bellered, as black spots began to swim into his vision.

 

The beast roared again and moved slowly toward him, it’s grotesquely shaped arms nearly dragging on the floor. The smell of it sickening Sam. It smelled like rot, and death and Sam knew it would shortly smell like him. His head bobbed as he tried to remain conscious. 

 

He grabbed a wayward beer bottle and hurled it in the general direction. Year after year of relentless hunter training and here it was...the final showdown and all he had at his disposal was an empty…’thanks Dean’ he thought vaguely. 

 

Sam heard the noises from upstairs now. A dragging sound, crawling maybe...at least someone was still alive and trying to escape. That lifted his heart a little. He pulled across the floor toward the back door, and felt ridiculously like a blonde in a horror movie trying to escape the masked killer. Peering back over his shoulder he saw the wendigo throw the kitchen table at him. It nailed him, squarely in the back, the corner catching his forehead. Everything went black.

 

Ah, hunters...all alike the creature thought. In the end, just men the same as any other. Like the trees they crumpled, bled and died...while he lived on eternal. Yes, he could smell the woman upstairs, hear her pathetic attempts to wake the poisoned hunter in the bed. He could hear her fear in every pound of her heart...it was delicious, really. Yes, the weeks of waiting had been well worth it and in the end it would have food enough for the cold months, maybe years...and a new home to sleep in. A slow kill was always better than a quick one. Make them wait, let the fear sweeten their meat...no rush. All the time in the world…

 

It turned toward the stairs and began to mount them slowly, loudly, making sure she knew it was on its way to kill her. There were sounds now, little gasps of panic as she tried to hurry… It decided it would kill her last...perhaps in front of the two dying hunters...let them watch the last drop of her blood flow and the light in her eyes drain away...that would make the kill one of the best in the last few decades. Patience was always worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...oddly I was watching the mid season finale of Arrow and got the urge to finish up Chapter 7 and finally the word for this chapter were here. Hope you enjoyed it...will add more soon...I hope!
> 
> ~no music for this one!
> 
> http://science.howstuffworks.com/science-vs-myth/strange-creatures/wendigoes3.htm


	9. Blood Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you are faced with your own mortality ... is it harder to fight for your own life, or the lives of those you love?

For Dean the world had become a rather wicked acid trip. He was hearing noises around him like the house was imploding but it didn't feel serious. He could hear his name being spoken, but surely they didn't want to ruin this amazing trip he was on by waking him up. Some distant part of his head wondered what the hell was in that whiskey they had dosed him with. He wondered if they had given him some sleeping pills or some herb to put him into a deep sleep so they could continue their little love affair which his arrival home has most likely disrupted. His thoughts were disjointed and brief and none really felt like they were his own. The bed was moving and he was pretty confident that was actually happening. He longed to sit up and bellow at whatever was disturbing him, but moving was out of the question at the moment.

He heard an ear-splitting scream, filling his head with colors and pain. "Dean! DEAN! OH MY GOD!" Kristine was screaming and things were being thrown. Then the smell hit his nostrils and deep down inside where the darkest hunter pieces of him resided, he knew. The damn thing was here. It was in the house, in his room and they were about to be killed. He raised his eyelids using every ounce of stubbornness he had ever possessed. He opened them just enough to see the shadow bearing down on him. He felt something cold and sharp grappling at his leg and he was ripped from the warm bed. He landed on his back, an unceremonious thump following him and his breath floating.

She was still screaming. Yelling for Sam? Where the hell was Sam? Why wasn't he helping out a little here? Dean was trying to cuss the beast out, make threats, call Cas...any damn thing that would just put this situation on pause so he could think for God's sake. He reached out with both arms trying to stop his progress toward the doorway, but in an instant he saw the staircase looming ahead. "Oh Shit." formed in his mind but the words didn't make it as far as his lips before the beast lifted him, dangling him like a bit of steak before hurling him down the stairs. 

Every sharp edge of each step took a bite as he met them, leaving bruises, breaks, cuts and pain. The pain, however sharp, was a blessing. He could feel his blood pumping with fury through his wounded shell of a body and even as he hit the last step he was eyeballing the room for anything silver. His head hit the edge of the overturned table and as his consciousness drained away again he thought, numbly, "Oh...there's Sam...."

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Kristine was standing now, painfully hustling around the room to find a weapon. The huge and frigging heavy trunk had produced nothing but a variety of knives in all shapes and sizes. In a normal situation (she huffed out an ill-timed, hysterical laugh at that thought) a knife would be perfect but this thing was bigger and broader than the doorway. To get close enough to try to stab or cut it she would have to enter the atmosphere of it's stench and she seriously believed she'd puke if forced to do that. "What IS it????" she mumbled over and over again. There were guns, but she'd only shot a gun a few times and she wasn't sure these were loaded. What if they were actually loaded and bullets didn't damage it? Sam had shot it, she was sure of it, but it didn't seem to be bleeding or injured at all.

She jetted across the hallway to Sam's room, avoiding even a glance down the stairs. There was an aluminum baseball bat in the corner and she grabbed it. It was heavier than she expected and as she handled it, spikes sprung from the hitting end like magic. She grinned, half-crazed, 'Warriors...come out and playyyyy..." she chanted. She moved back into the hallway, expecting to meet the demon face to face. What she saw was almost worse. There was nothing. A cold breeze blowing through the missing wall, the room looked like a UFC ring after a fight. 

She edged cautiously to the top step, her feet picking up the pieces of broken glass that hadn't embedded in Sam's feet on his way down. She peered in disbelief. Sam was crumpled in a heap, blood flowing copiously from several wounds. Dean was nearby, his head bleeding, his leg clearly broken. Both of them dead, or unconscious. 

A scream started at her toes and ran up her legs like licking flames. It gathered in her belly, filling it with dread, anger, rage so fierce she had never experienced it before. It reached maturity in her chest and shoulders until she bellowed, roared and charged down the stairs to find and kill this monstrosity. It took seconds. It stepped neatly from the kitchen doorway and hit her directly in the face. She was thrown backward, landing on a desk and sliding to the floor. Her body had never experienced this type of abuse. Every cell was in torment. She got bravely back to her feet and stood to face this thing Sam called a Wendigo. 

The look of it was sickening. It had once had skin, but it appeared to be sliding greasily toward the ground. It's claws were like butcher knives and again she wanted to laugh at how ridiculous one of those tiny knives would have been in her hand at this point. It moved slowly, with purpose and she could HEAR it. She could hear it's thoughts and they were of death and eating flesh, killing and sleeping and (BREEDING???). She was frozen in horror. The smell enveloped her, seemed to merge with her very atomic structure until she knew she would smell it for the rest of her days no matter how few. She felt she wouldn't be able to move as it rambled on inside her own head, somehow making her feel violated in the last possible way she could tolerate.

She charged it. Thought left her. Reason fled. There was just pure rage at the raping she felt was happening to her world, her men, her life and even her own mind. She wouldn't accept it for one more second. It raised a lengthy arm to hit her again and she swung. She put all the energy she had behind the swing and it connected with one gnarly, slime-filled hand. The creature wailed. It made an audible noise, but the explosion of pain and outrage in her head almost split her brain. "HOW?" it wondered, and then, "HER????"

But she was beyond reason at that point. She was driven to find salvation from this waking nightmare. She came at it again and again swinging like Maggie from the Walking Dead. She felt strong and powerful and female and she understood that it hated those things more than any other weapon she could present. The stench only got worse, rising like a miasma of putrescence into the air and gagging her. Innards were spilling out now, and something comparable to blood. It doubled over in agony and she used the last bit of her innate power to crack it on the head like splitting a log with an axe. In fact, that was the sound it made as it rendered and spilled onto the once-lovely carpeting.

There were sounds filtering slowly in. Gurgles and oozing sounds that filled her with horror. It was dying, of that she was quite sure. She hit it again anyway, once for Dean, twice for Sam. She stood motionless until she fully believed it dead. Then she collapsed onto the floor and crawled, child-like into the corner of the room, still clutching the bloodied and bent baseball bat.

Musical Influences:  
Esmerelda - Ben Howard


	10. Bits and Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...the cat is out of the bag...now what?

Kristine huddled for what felt like days in that corner. She was sticky with blood and grossness. The silence was making her feel insane. She needed to check on Sam and Dean. She knew that, she felt that she should, it was just too much right now. It might always be too much. THIS was too much. This fear and pain and horror she had been confronted with recently, maybe Dean was right to run away. Maybe it was SMART to run away. She could do that. She could leave now and never look back, never know if they were dead or alive. She could move on and forget the smell of that rotting corpse straight out of her worst nightmare. 

She could push Sams hair and Dean's laughter clear into a tiny corner of her mind and lock them there. She knew she could look at green eyes again some day and it wouldn't remind her of his face. She could look at the edge of a tshirt on a well-built man and not sob at the wondering... She was sobbing loudly, again. It seemed to be her go to move these days. Mostly she was crying because she knew that never in a million years would she run away from this. She could not. She would not. Not even if that demon stood upright and came at her again right this moment. She got on all fours and moved around the edge of the room as far away from IT as she could.

"Sam? Sam?" she whispered quietly as she got closer to him. "Sammy??" She released the bat only long enough to check for a pulse and was truly amazed when she felt it strong and steady under her frigid fingertips. His eyelids were fluttering, but there was no immediate sign of him coming to. 

In order to reach Dean she had to go over the table. She took a deep, steadying breath. He looked bad. He was gray, his lips almost blue. There was so much blood around him, she couldn't find a place to step. His broken bone jutted proudly out of his leg like an obscene trophy. She choked and grimaced as she saw one hand appeared to be turning blue also. "Oh, please...no." She was shaking her head unconsciously, muttering "nonononono..." A trembling hand reaching out to touch his face, feeling it's chill, seeing it's pallor. This couldn't be happening.

"I killed it, Dean..." "I killed it for you." she whispered as she leaned over to kiss his forehead. Tears coursing down her face, dripping onto him...she laid her head atop his. Nothing. No movement at all. No life. No breath. No sound. She dropped to her butt in the blood, a feeling of numbness creeping over her already overtaxed mind. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
The light grew from every corner of the room. It poured into the hanging window frames and through the cracks in the floor. She stared blankly ahead, not noticing at all. With the light came a hum. Clear and bright, growing in strength and power until the foundation of the house rattled and shook and the windows which had been spared by the beast exploded and shattered inward.

"This will not do at all. It is not how it was written." Cas said calmly to the entire room. His gaze fell on the sorry mess and he knew intervention was not really allowed, but these human forms were becoming some of the most interesting part of his job. "This, belongs to you Crowley..." Cas said waving his hand at the broken, lifeless body of the Wendigo and sending it off - along with it's smell. "Horrendous creation, I will never understand that." Cas shook his head. He regarded the brothers and their broken girl-doll. "What a sad lot. What a mess you've made for me to clean up - you two!" He raised his monotone just a tad and touched them each on the forehead.

"Ugh!" Sam grunted, throwing his arms out to the sides to defend himself and then spotting Cas. He sat up, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes as if he'd been in a deep sleep. He looked around, spotting Kristine in her comatose state and Dean, slowly turning blue. "CAS, What the HELL?" He shouted. Getting to his feet and then remembering the glass. He raised his hands up at Cas like, "Well? Clean this up." Cas signed mightily and waved his hand around like a magician, clearing the room and returning it to it's former glory.

Sam hurried to Kristine. He knelt in front of her and touched her face. He looked up at Cas, questioningly. "She will be last." Cas said calmly. "Dean. Wake up." He ordered. Dean gasped in a mighty breath, exhaling a string of curse words and ending with "God damn it!" He sat up. His eyes covered the room quickly, taking in it's perfection and Sam's perfect health. "Holy hell..." Dean mumbled. Straightening and making a face when his leg popped slightly as he stood. "What the hell?" He repeated.

Cas stepped forward once again and touched each forehead, replaying for them the moments they had missed while unconscious on the floor. "You're welcome." He said blandly as he stepped back and wiped his hands mildly on his coat. Both brothers stood facing each other now, mouths agape. "She?" Dean asked, pointing at Kristine who was rocking slightly back and forth now and humming. "All by herself?" Sam added. "Yes. To both." Cas replied. Dean covered his mouth with his hand and stared at her. "Unbelievable." Sam said, reaching down to stroke her hair kindly. Dean felt a stab of jealousy and pushed it quickly away.

"Now. I will fix her. You have much to explain to her. She will either have to accept it or I will wipe her memory and she will be removed from this situation." Cas explained with the patience of a kindergarten teacher. "Removed?" Dean's face was reflecting his growing anger. Cas nodded, well acquainted with Dean and his moods. "It is simple. There is a plan. It has two varying outcomes and that is her decision to make, not yours." Sam was still squatting at her side, reassuringly touching her head. He nodded. "We'll tell her everything then. Wake her up." Cas nodded again. "I will give you one full day. Do not tell her what the option is if she does not accept this." "Great. One friggin' day." Dean grumbled. "It took me 30 years to even halfway accept this shit." 

Sam was nodding, "One day will be enough Dean." Dean put his hands on his hips. "You're so sure, are you?" Sam sensed there was more there than a simple question, but there would be time for all that later. "I'm sure." Sam replied setting his lips in a line so Dean would know he was done discussing it. "Fine." Dean said, running a hand across his forehead and mumbling to himself, "Perfect."

"I will return in 24 hours." Cas said, "Best of luck." He leaned down and touched her forehead, disappearing in an instant. . "I hate when he does that." Dean growled.

 

 

Musical Influences:  
Virginia Wolfe Underwater  
Chelsea Wolfe

Fire-Scene  
S. Carey

**Author's Note:**

> Musical Inspiration:
> 
> Zella Day - 1965
> 
> Lykke Li - No Rest For the Wicked


End file.
